


Hurt and Comfort in Camelot

by PenPatronusAooO



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arthur Pendragon Is King, BAMF Arthur, BAMF Merlin, BAMF Morgana, BBC, Bromance, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic Battles, Epic Bromance, Epic Friendship, Gen, Hurt Merlin, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, PenPatronus, PenPatronusAooO, Poor Merlin, Protective Arthur, Protective Merlin, Whump, hurt Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-01-28 12:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 41,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12606724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenPatronusAooO/pseuds/PenPatronusAooO
Summary: COMPLETE An anthology of dramatic whump stories featuring the Arthur and Merlin bromance!Story #1: Camelot BurningStory #2: Dungeon DepthsStory #3: AwakeStory #4: The Life You SaveStory #5: Darkest NightStory #6: Death WishStory #7: Worth Your TearsStory #8: A Dream is a WishStory #9: Throw the BoarStory #10: The Yoke SpellStory #11: RevelationStory #12: An Eternal StoryStory #13: Goodbye GuinevereStory #14: The Dreadroot PoisonStory #15: Pain Beyond All ImaginingStory #16: How to Torture a KingStory #17: Hold MeStory #18: UndercoverStory #19: Merlin's Wicked DayStory #20: The Taste TestStory #21: Merlin's BaneStory #22: Untitled Story Where Arthur Sleeps in Merlin's ArmsStory #23: Untitled Story Where Merlin Sleeps in Arthur's ArmsStory #24: The Sea Beast and the ShipwreckStory #25: Drabble 1, PunishmentStory #26: Drabble 2, AftermathStory #27: Drabble 3, RestlessStory #28: Born for YouStory #29: Agravaine's Arrogance





	1. Camelot Burning

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on FanFiction.net

Camelot was on fire.

Merlin was a salmon swimming upstream. Stumbling, coughing servants, cooks, guards and knights sprinted past him down the steps as he tried to climb up. He adjusted his red scarf over his mouth and nose as he ran. Smoke that billowed from the direction of the king and queen's quarters morphed from white, to gray, to black in a matter of minutes. There was little time to wonder what their enemy had catapulted into Arthur's room. Merlin decided that he would worry about that later, once Arthur and Guinevere were safe.

Blinded, he ran into the queen, literally, a dozen feet from the door. Gwen bounced off of his chest and would've landed skull-first on the stone if Merlin hadn't caught her. "He's trapped," she explained between sobs and coughing fits, "the bed collapsed – I can't lift it off him. Merlin—" Gwen's eyes watered from both the smoke and fear. She ran out of breath and could only cough and point at the room.

Merlin ripped his scarf off and pressed it against her mouth. "I'll get him, Gwen, I promise, now get out of the castle!" He pushed her towards the stairs and with a last panicked look at him, Guinevere descended.

Merlin flattened himself on the floor and crawled towards the blackest smoke. He used his hands to follow the wall to the open door, then abandoned it and struck out in the direction he knew the bed was in. "Arthur!" he yelled, " _Arthur_!"

Tongues of flames licked his skin. There was more fire than wall left in Arthur's chambers. Anything made of wood or paper was long gone, and each tapestry and curtain fueled the fires as they dropped one by one. A chunk of the ceiling landed beside Merlin and pummeled him with searing debris. He couldn't hold in the scream, and the resulting inhale turned his lungs black. With no air to lose he called again, " ** _Arthur_**!"

The hotter the fire got, the more it illuminated the room. Merlin saw him, then. Arthur. Arthur lying face down in his nightshirt and trousers with three of the four bedposts piled on his back. The only other color Merlin's foggy brain acknowledged other than the black smoke and the yellow flames was the red blood dripping from Arthur's hair. Merlin crawled a few more feet, and then pushed himself up to his knees. The room spun and bucked like a horse but he managed to wade through the flames.

Merlin picked up speed and rammed the top post with his left shoulder. Half of it had already burned away and it slid easily off Arthur. The second had splintered. A wood sliver as long as Merlin's forearm protruded from Arthur's side. Merlin yanked it out, then used the smallest section as a lever to lift the largest. He got to the third, and that was when his knees gave out. He collapsed to the floor, nauseous from the burns and dizzy from the smoke. He focused his energy on magic and gradually inched the final post off. Sparkles invaded his eyes. Sleep invited him to relax. Arthur moaned, then, and the sound of his pain woke Merlin up a moment before it was too late.

Anger and fear flooded his veins. He no longer heard his heart's rapid beat or felt the chainmail-like grating in his throat. His eyes saw nothing but Arthur's body. His skin shriveled from the heat but he no longer acknowledged it. Merlin rolled Arthur over and then lifted him into his arms. The blood dripping down Arthur's left cheek stained the inside of Merlin's right elbow. Merlin stood – crashed back down – and got up again. Like a drunkard he stumbled through and around the flames and debris as the room collapsed. Sparks and ash covered his hair and went down his back, nipping at his spine. Merlin did his best to protect Arthur and in the process, banged his own head and knees on chairs and cabinets. He found the door only because Arthur's foot hit the jamb. Merlin stumbled through it, stumbled down the hall, stumbled down the first two flights of stairs before his strength faltered.

" _No_ -!" Merlin collapsed but managed, barely, to protect Arthur's head as they fell. He landed with his cheek on the king's chest, their chins inches from touching. Arthur frowned but made no noise. "No…" Merlin whispered. He felt the heat following them down the hall. Fire stalked them like prey. And he couldn't get himself out, let alone the king. "Arthur…" Merlin grunted when he swung his arm up and cupped Arthur's cheek in his hand. "Arthur, wake up. You have to get yourself out of here…" His fingers climbed up the king's head until it found the source of the blood. With his opposite hand Merlin cupped the puncture wound in Arthur's side. "Please Arthur…  _please_ …" The king didn't stir. Fresh tears slid down Merlin's face. He gathered the last of himself and pushed all of his magic into the wounds. Merlin spoke the spell quickly and clearly and repeated it again. He didn't stop until the vignette on the outskirts of his eyesight marched inward, threatening sleep or death, or both.

"Arthur…" Merlin whispered one last time before he went limp.

* * *

 Merlin woke up in the Rising Star inn. He took a deep breath – testing his lungs – and immediately regretted it when his body convulsed and he coughed for five minutes straight. A cup appeared in front of his lips. He parted them and managed to swallow a few drops of water. He expected to see Gaius holding the cup. Or Gwen, perhaps. Shock was his first reaction when the king of Camelot's face came into view.

"You're alive!"

The corner of Arthur's lips tightened. "Observant as usual, Merlin."

"What happened?"

"I saved your life. Again."

Merlin rolled his eyes. He coughed again and Arthur gently lifted his head so that he could drink some more.

"Yes, I saved your life again," Arthur repeated. And then he said, in a quieter voice he usually reserved for Guinevere, "soon after you saved mine… again." With a ginger touch he lowered Merlin's head back onto the pillow. And then, seemingly on a whim, he ruffled his servant's hair and smiled. "Thank you, my old friend."

Merlin smiled. "Thank you, dear friend."

**The End**


	2. Dungeon Depths

Gwen begged him not to go. Gaius, too. They insisted that the entire battalion of knights Arthur had summoned was enough. They didn't need him. Not really.

Arthur went anyway.

The wooden door was thick but old, and rust coated the hinges. It required a battering ram but Arthur was impatient. A few kicks from his boot and the door crumpled. Half a dozen knights of Camelot followed their king into the pitch-black chamber. Their torchlight illuminated the only thing in the narrow room: a barely clothed figure sprawled face down in the corner. King Arthur froze at the sight. His sword tumbled, unnoticed, from his hand. He didn't hear it clatter on the black stone floor or see his knights rush past him.

"He's still alive, Sire," one of them said.

"He's awake!" said another.

"My God – what did they do to him?"

"Sire – he's asking for you."

"Your Majesty…  _Arthur_!"

One voice – the meekest and weakest, penetrated the fog of shock around Arthur's mind. "Arthur," it whispered, " _Arthur_?"

"I'm here," Arthur tried to say, but only air left his mouth, not words. He coughed and forced himself to speak. "I'm here, Merlin." Arthur straightened and began barking orders. The knights ran back up the stairs to retrieve water and prepare the horses. The clanging of swords in the background got quieter as the other knights fought off the surviving kidnappers. One grabbed Arthur's sword and stayed behind to guard the door to the dungeon. Arthur sprinted over to his friend. He gathered Merlin in his arms and sat, Indian style, with him cradled in his lap. He gently brushed Merlin's dark hair out of his face and took a good look at him.

"Arthur?" Merlin's normally sparkling eyes were dull, numb. "Are you all right?"

The king stared at him. "Why-" he said, barely concealing a sob, "why the hell… I'm the one who should be asking you that."

The torturers had played a game of connect the dots with Merlin's pale skin. A blunt tool – a hammer, perhaps – left bruises every few inches across Merlin's face, neck, chest, stomach, arms and legs. A sharp tool – a dagger, perhaps – carved lines from bruise to bruise. Arthur untwisted Merlin's trousers – the only clothes he wore, then took his royal robe off and cocooned him in it. Cries and gasps escaped Merlin's clenched teeth whenever Arthur touched the left side of his chest. The bruises were darker there. At least two ribs were broken. Blood flowed freely from Merlin's left forearm and no matter how tightly Arthur wrapped the wound some still escaped.

Merlin reached up and cupped Arthur's cheek. "You look like you're in more pain than I am." Arthur saw his own tears tumble down Merlin's grimy hand. He grabbed it, wrapped his fingers tightly around it and cradled it against his heart. "How long have I been gone?" Merlin whispered.

"Almost a week." Arthur barely recognized his own voice. It was strained, high-pitched. "Why did these Druids do this to you?"

"They thought I had magic," Merlin whispered. "They thought that if they hurt me I would heal myself."

Arthur snorted and gestured at Merlin's broken body. "Well done. You definitely proved you're no sorcerer." Merlin smiled. "They didn't even ask any questions?"

"They asked many questions," said Merlin. "About Camelot, about… you."

Arthur winced. He focused on bandaging up the wounds so that he didn't have to look into his servant's eyes. "My favorite food, I assume?" he joked without smiling. "What kind of soap I use?"

Merlin chuckled softly. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I cracked. I told them your favorite color."

"Camelot is doomed," Arthur bemoaned. Merlin laughed from deep in his belly and immediately his face morphed into one big wince. His body convulsed and blood leaked from his mouth, trailed down his unshaven cheek and pooled in the inside of Arthur's elbow. "Easy, Merlin," Arthur soothed. He wiped the blood away and hugged his servant closer. "I'll get you to Gaius soon."

"I didn't tell them a thing," Merlin wheezed. He clutched Arthur's sleeve and pulled him nearer. "No matter what they did to me, Arthur, I swear I kept my mouth shut."

"Keep it shut now, Merlin. You need to rest."

"Arthur… my chest hurts… I can't bear it…"

One of Arthur's tears landed on Merlin's nose. "Neither can I," he whispered.

" _Sire_!"

Arthur looked up. A druid and the guard exchanged blows with their swords, swung around and scuffled down the hall. Arthur cursed. He didn't have time to be gentle with his wounded servant. He tossed Merlin over his shoulder and ran.

"Oh, this is lovely," Merlin mumbled when his nose bounced off Arthur's spinal cord. He slid his thumbs through Arthur's belt loops to steady himself. "This is much… more comfortable…"

"Shut it, Merlin," Arthur growled, harsher than he intended.

Arthur kicked open a door and sprinted through the castle's kitchen. He dodged a robed Druid swinging a mace, then hit him with the heels of Merlin's feet. Merlin yelped – the impact knocked the Druid over and cleared a path. Arthur got outside and found Gwaine bringing a horse for them. "We got what we came for!" Arthur shouted to his knights. "Retreat – everyone back to Camelot!" Gwaine held Merlin while Arthur climbed into the saddle. He loosened the reins and slid backwards. Gwaine hoisted Merlin's right leg over and pushed him up. Arthur wrapped his arm around Merlin's waist and secured him in his seat. The horse trotted forward. Merlin's head tipped backwards to land against Arthur's shoulder. "I'm taking you home," Arthur whispered in his ear. "And there's no way in Hell I'm going to let anyone do that to you again, Merlin. I swear it."

"Thank you," Merlin whispered, "for coming for me. I didn't think you would."

Arthur's lower lip quivered for half a moment. "I'll always come for you."

"No, I mean…" Merlin licked his lips and fought for the strength to speak. "You're king now, Arthur. You're supposed to send other people on the rescue missions and stay safe in the castle."

"That's no fun." The wind pummeled their bodies when the horse reached full speed. Merlin gave up on trying to keep his seat and just trusted Arthur to hold him steady. "Maybe if it wasn't so important…" Arthur muttered.

"Hmm?" Merlin sniffed drowsily.

Arthur hugged him tighter. "Maybe I'd stay home," he said, "if you weren't so very important to me."

**The End**


	3. Awake

Hurt and Comfort in Camelot  
Story #3  
 **Awake**

Merlin was convinced that he was asleep, and dreaming. He had to be. The king of Camelot was folding his laundry.

Merlin lay in bed while Arthur walked around picking up shirts and stacking them on his servant's dresser. "And then," he said, and Merlin realized he'd woken up in the middle of a paragraph, "then I told the prat to polish my armor and he did so with Guinevere's favorite dress!" Arthur balled up a pair of socks and tossed them across the room. Merlin chuckled but Arthur didn't hear him. Finished with the laundry, Arthur grabbed a broom and attacked the dust bunnies beneath Merlin's bed. "Then I tell him I want potatoes with my dinner and he returns with a bowl of  _tomatoes_. And I yelled at him and you know what he said?" With a mighty heave, Arthur shepherded every speck of dirt into a wooden dustpan. "He said 'I apologize, Your Majesty. I will bring you a new meal and promptly lock myself in the stocks.' Can you believe that? Granted I'd like to have a servant who actually obeys me but this kid is completely incompetent and annoying and puts up no fight about being punished and, God, he's so bloody…  _boring_!"

Merlin felt sleep calling him, but managed to exhale a few words. "What… a… prat…" He heard the broom clatter to the ground and felt a rush of wind across his face when Arthur rushed over to the bed.

"Merlin?" Arthur gasped. He grasped his servant by the shoulders and lifted him a few inches off the bed. "I can't believe it - You're awake!"

"Aren't I usually?" Merlin mumbled drowsily.

"Merlin, you're sick, you've been asleep for days." Arthur backed away, inch by inch, while keeping Merlin in his sight. "I'll get Gaius. Don't move. Don't fall asleep."

Merlin didn't hear him. He was already gone.

It was dark outside the next time Merlin woke up. Immediately his eyes fell on the only light in the room: a single candle in the middle of the floor. Arthur sat against the wall with Guinevere leaning against his chest, her arms around his waist. "Are you cold?" he whispered.

"I'm fine," she whispered. Merlin heard the tears in her voice. Arthur kissed the top of her head. "His birthday is the day after tomorrow. Did you know that? Gaius told me."

"No," Arthur sighed, "I didn't know that."

"I want to get him something… Something special."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I'm not sure…" Gwen thought about it for a moment, then said, "Perhaps his mother would like to visit. Could you send some of the knights to get her?"

"Of course."

Guinevere sat up. "We should have a feast. A big one. Merlin does so much and gets so little recognition. He should be treated like a king."

"A king?" A smile emerged from Arthur's pursed lips. "I wouldn't go that far." Guinevere grinned, leaned forward and gently pressed her lips against his. "Gwen? Maybe we should retrieve his mother now."

"Why?"

"Because…" Arthur took a deep breath. "Gaius said that if he doesn't show signs of getting better soon… Gwen, he's not going to make it to his birthday."

Gwen sniffed and cupped his cheek in her small hand. "There are few things I wouldn't do to spare you this," she whispered.

Arthur turned his face so that he could kiss the palm of her hand. "Good servants are hard to find."

"You know that's not what I mean." He did. She brushed his blonde hair with the tips of her fingers. "He's your closest friend, Arthur. He's the brother you never had. He's as important to you as I am."

"Don't exaggerate, Gwen." She sighed and scooted back down to lean against him again. Tears emerged from Arthur's eyes the moment Gwen broke their eye contact. He tried to stifle his emotions but that only caused his breaths to hitch, his chin to quiver, his body to tremble. Guinevere felt it and held him tighter. A moment passed before Arthur whispered, "If he's going to die, I don't want it to be here in this dirty excuse for a bedroom."

Gwen nodded. "I'll have the guest quarters prepared."

"No," Arthur said with a hint of steel returning to his voice. "He can sleep in our bed. Get Gaius and have him bottle up that foul potion of his. I'll take Merlin upstairs."

Arthur rose and helped his queen to her feet, then approached the bed. Merlin closed his eyes. They were heavy – anvils attached to his eyelashes. He was sweating, but felt cold. The air tasted funny. Like copper. Like blood. He felt Arthur peel the blankets off one by one. Something slid gently beneath Merlin's knees – an arm, he assumed. Arthur's other arm slipped under Merlin's neck – then vanished – then reappeared beneath the pillow. The pillow came with Merlin when Arthur lifted him up off the bed and clasped him against his chest. "You weigh less than a sack of grain," Arthur mumbled.

'Have you ever even lifted a sack of grain?' Arthur would've asked if he could. He heard Arthur's heart beat through his chest, and in his memory he heard one of his mother's lullabies at that tempo. He fell asleep unafraid.

Merlin awoke to the smell of the fresh sunlight. It had rained during the night. Fog nudged the window to Arthur and Guinevere's bedroom. Merlin flexed his fingers and relished in the feeling of feather pillows and clean sheets. Even the air felt luxurious. Someone snored nearby. Arthur was in a chair to Merlin's left. He slept with his cheek on the bed, one arm wrapped around his waist and the other curled towards Merlin's chest. That hand wrapped around Merlin's forearm in a grip so hard it was almost painful. "Arthur," Merlin whispered. Fire flared in his throat and he swallowed every bit of moisture in his mouth to quench it. "Arthur?" The king stirred and a sour smell erupted. He'd been drinking wine heavily and recently. Arthur walked his fingers across the blankets and poked the King in the head. Arthur's nostrils flared and a brief sound came from the back of his throat. When Merlin grabbed his hair and pulled he swatted at him as if at a fly. Merlin chuckled.

"Quiet 'erlin," Arthur mumbled, "tryin' to sleep…" Merlin yanked harder and Arthur sat up. Bleary blue eyes darted around the room before they settled on Merlin's. Merlin knew instantly that Arthur was still intoxicated when he tried to say three things at once and barely managed, "How awake you're Merlin feeling?" He shook his head to clear it and his eyes focused.

"Are you drunk?" the servant asked.

"Are you alive?" Arthur slurred. He snorted, amused at himself. "Did that bloody-fuddy-uddy potion fix you, eh?"

"Nope, I'm dead and you're dreaming." At the look on Arthur's face Merlin immediately said, "Joking, Arthur, I'm joking."

Arthur laughed, loudly, but that did little to disguise the hiccups that accompanied his watery eyes. "Thought you were done for, Merlin, I really did." Arthur pushed the chair aside and sat on the side of the bed. "We couldn't wake you up then you had a fever and you kept having these twitchy things." Arthur mimed what Merlin suspected he would look like if struck by lightning. "Thought you were possessed or bewitched but Gaius said there was something wrong in your head. Oi, listen, you wouldn't mind being buried with the royal pets, would you? Guine-e-e-e-veer doesn't think it'd be proper but I'd be honored if I were you."

Merlin scooted up against the headboard. "Lucky for both of us you won't have to make that decision anytime soon. I feel –" He didn't get a chance to say more, but didn't need to.

Arthur grabbed him around the neck and yanked him into a hug so tight that Merlin made a chocking sound. He patted Arthur on the back hesitantly at first, then squeezed just as hard. He thought, at first, that Arthur was comforting him. Not so. Arthur needed comforted – needed Merlin's comfort. The two friends relaxed against the headboard. Merlin held on tight as the king tried and failed to resist a week's worth of tears.

"Stay awake this time," Arthur whispered. "Please."

Merlin assured him that he would. And he did.

** The End **


	4. The Life You Save

At midnight, Merlin heard a voice whisper his name in his ear. In a graceless movement, he rolled out of bed and picked up his only weapon: a shoe. "Gaius?" Merlin whispered to the darkness. "Hello?"

_Merlin._

The voice sounded familiar but Merlin couldn't place it. His father's face appeared in a distant corner of his memory, but he dismissed it immediately.

_Merlin._

Merlin dropped the shoe and followed the voice through his door, out of Gaius' room and up the cold stone stairs. He focused on his ears more than his eyes, so he had little clue what direction the voice was leading him. It got quieter every few minutes until Merlin had to jog to hear it at all. He sprinted down an unfamiliar corridor, flew around the corner and smacked right into someone's chest, knocking them both to the ground.

" _Merlin_!"

 _That_  voice he knew.

"Sorry, Arthur." The two men sat up and rubbed their heads. The King was also in his nightclothes, and barefoot, and he looked as groggy as Merlin felt.

"Were you calling my name just now?" Arthur asked after they climbed to their feet. "I could've sworn I heard your voice."

"Really? I thought I heard –"

_Merlin… Arthur…_

The king and the sorcerer's eyes widened. "…thought I heard  _that_ ," Merlin gulped.

Arthur pivoted toward a door on the other side of the wall. He pulled it open, glanced over the threshold, then waved Merlin inside. They were in one of the spare armories in the west quadrant of the castle. Arthur took a sword off the wall and hefted it in front of him. They'd only taken a dozen steps into the room when the door behind them slammed shut. Merlin doubled back and tried to open it, but found it locked from the outside. Just as suddenly, the ten torches lining the long, narrow room erupted in light all on their own.

"Sorcery," Merlin whispered. "Arthur, this is a trap."

"Stay behind me," the king said. They moved at a snail's pace, eyeing the swords, spears and arrows hung on both sides and the darker corner in front. Merlin thought he saw something move. He opened his mouth to speak but suddenly a dagger shot out of the darkness and imbedded in Arthur's chest. He wore no chainmail to slow it down. There wasn't even a chance to try to dodge it. Arthur gasped. He swayed. Color disappeared from his skin and he collapsed straight back into Merlin's arms.

" ** _Arthur_**!" Merlin cushioned his fall – the inside of his elbow beneath Arthur's neck, his other arm around his waist. Arthur pulled the dagger out and his screams nearly deafened them both. "No!" Merlin cried. He glared up at the figure in the corner. "Show yourself, you coward!"

A man limped out wearing hooded robes so thick that Merlin couldn't see his face. "That pierced his heart, Merlin," he said. "I suggest you heal him quickly."

"Who are you?" Merlin bellowed. "Why?  _Why_  did you do this?"

"Merlin," Arthur coughed, sprinkling blood on them both.

The hooded man stepped closer. "He has moments left, Merlin. Seconds."

Arthur's hand was coated in blood and Merlin flinched at the heat when Arthur grabbed him. "Gwen," he gasped.

"Do it," the man said.

"I can't heal a wound this bad!" Merlin cried. "There's nothing I can do!"

"Try!"

"Merlin…" Arthur's whole body convulsed. His entire shirt was red. "Look after her." His eyes rolled back into his skull.

" _NOW_!" the man bellowed.

Spells burst from Merlin's throat like fire from a dragon's. His fingers braided together on Arthur's chest and pressed. Arthur's eyes burst open and his jaw dropped, and trembled. He said Merlin's name but his servant didn't hear it over his own words. A wheeze rose from Arthur's lungs. His eyes widened further – in pain, not surprise.

He wasn't healing.

The limping man suddenly placed his hand over Merlin's, then backed away when a halo of light rose from Merlin's skin and rolled across Arthur's body like an ocean wave. Arthur stared into his friend's face, but then his eyes were drawn down to his own body. He watched, transfixed, hypnotized, as the blood flow stopped, the wound knitted and the pain morphed from a sharp fire to a spiked throb to nothing more than an aching bruise. Sweat shimmered on Merlin's brow and his eyes hovered in tears. He held his breath and checked the wound, then buried his face against Arthur's gut when the healing was confirmed and his energy spent.

"I, Merlin…" Arthur whispered, mindlessly petting his friend's hair. "You… That was magic. This whole time you've…" He looked past his friend at the figure, and yelled, " ** _Merlin_**!"

Merlin sat up with his hands already raised. His eyes flashed gold and the five spears about to skewer them both froze in mid-air, then dropped to the floor. Three swords flipped down to eye level and joined a whole quiver of arrows. Merlin yelled in frustration when the weapons attacked. He broke the arrows with one slash of his hands and embedded the swords in the wall with the other. Arthur barely blinked as he watched his servant protect him. His mouth moved with undistinguishable words piecing together unorganized thoughts.

After Merlin shielded Arthur from nearly every weapon in the room he crouched in front of him and helped him sit up. "Arthur? Are you all right?" Arthur just stared at him. "Don't be frightened," Merlin said, grabbing his friend's shoulders. "It's just me; I'm the same Merlin you've always known. I swear all I've ever done with my powers help you. You believe that, right? Arthur?"

The king said nothing. His expression was neutral save for the shock in his eyes.

"Well done, young sorcerer," the hooded figure said with sincerity. "You've passed the tests. When you're able to stop a hundred spears on a battlefield and heal mortal wounds at the same time, you just might be able to protect the king."

"He could've died, you bastard!" Merlin leapt to his feet and would've tackled the figure if Arthur hadn't grabbed his arm. "What tests? Who are you?" he demanded.

The limping man kept them waiting no longer. He slid his hand through his hair from the crown of his head to the back of his neck and took the hood with it. Merlin backed up and nearly tripped over Arthur when he saw the man's face.

Merlin was looking at  _himself_.

His hair was shoulder-length and speckled with white, as was his beard. The ears were the same, the eyes and the lips. A scar divided his left cheek. His favored his left foot and held his weight sideways. The scarf he wore was a faded blue and coming apart at the seams. Three objects hung from a chain around his neck: two silver rings and a tiny leather pouch. The robes might have been Camelot-red at one point but they were too dirty to be sure.

"I'm dreaming," both Arthur and the young Merlin said simultaneously.

"No, you're not. I am Merlin, the same Merlin, twenty years from today." Before anyone could ask, the older Merlin held up one hand and said, "I can prove it.

The older Merlin held up one hand and said, "I can prove it." He took the chain off from around his neck and stepped toward them.

Merlin raised his palms and stood between Arthur and his future self. "Stay back," he growled. "You're not me. I would never hurt Arthur – you tried to kill him!"

Elder Merlin waved his forefinger back and forth. "No, no. I  _did_  kill him, and then I gave you a spell to bring him back to life. You should thank me, both of you."

"Out of my way, Merlin," said Arthur. He tried to sidestep his friend but Merlin blocked him. "I'm going to throttle him."

"You could try, dollop-head," old Merlin chuckled. His younger self and the king exchanged wide-eyed looks. "God, hearing your voice again…" A wave of grief passed across Merlin's face. "This is harder than I expected. Here." He tossed the chain to Arthur.

Merlin recognized the warped, tarnished silver rings instantly. He felt heavy, suddenly. As if his weight had tripled. Arthur's throat must have constricted because he was barely able to say, "Merlin, why does this man have my wedding ring? And why does Guinevere's look like it's been in a fire?"

"They could be fake," young Merlin said quickly, in a single exhale. "Copies." He took a deep breath and asked his other self, "What's in that pouch?"

"A lock of hair," Merlin said, "from Arthur's son."

Arthur blanched. Merlin grasped his shoulder to steady him. "That doesn't mean anything," he said. "If you're really me, prove it."

Merlin's eyes lacked more youth than his wrinkling skin. "Gladly," he said, and young Merlin could tell that he'd come prepared. "Last month you borrowed Gaius' socks and accidentally threw them out in the trash. Last week you tasted Arthur's food because you thought it smelled odd. For two days you vomited from food poisoning and never told Arthur why. Last night you ordered the Great Dragon to fly over the white mountains to search for Morgana. Does that satisfy you?"

Arthur suddenly walked towards the door. He dug out a small wooden chair from a pile of arrows and daggers, and dragged it back. "Sit down," he ordered his servant, "before you fall down." When Merlin didn't respond, Arthur grabbed his shoulders and pushed him down into the seat. "You believe him, don't you?"

Merlin's hands shook. He looked like he was sitting naked in a blizzard. "You came back in time to give me that spell, a spell to bring Arthur back to life," he whispered. Arthur stood behind him and kept one hand on his shoulder. "And you did that because in your time, Arthur is dead?"

Elder Merlin's grief-stricken expression returned, and stayed longer. "Arthur died during a battle. Died right in my arms with a dagger in his heart, precisely as he did a moment ago. All of my magic and there was nothing I could do. I failed. It was my destiny to protect Arthur and I failed." Merlin lifted his hand and the chain flew out of Arthur's grasp and back around his neck. He fingered the king's wedding ring – rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. "After that I looked for spells, found this one, learned it. I came back in time to give it to you. When the time comes, hopefully, you'll be able to save him." He limped closer and, for once, the two other men allowed him to.

"If you wanted to teach me a spell," Merlin said through clenched teeth, "why didn't you just say that? Why did you have to hurt Arthur?"

Elder Merlin tucked his lame foot beneath his thigh and sat down on the floor at Merlin's feet. "It was necessary. It's a spell you can't access unless you're truly,  _truly_  desperate to save a life. You had to practice and not on some barn animal or on Gaius or someone else, it had to be Arthur because… not long from now, it will be." He dropped Arthur's ring and rubbed Gwen's. "That spell draws its power from the same source as the Cup of Life. Nature must be balanced. When a life is returned, another is taken."

"Taken?" Arthur's hands clenched around his friend's shoulders. "You forced Merlin to use that spell and give his life to me? How is he going to save me in the future if he dies now?"

"Because it wasn't my life that was sacrificed," the young Merlin whispered, "it was his."

"You're – he's – that Merlin is dying?" Arthur pointed toward the man on the floor.

The elder Merlin forced a smile. "I can feel death coming. It's looking for me in my own time but I'm not there. It will catch up soon."

Arthur walked around the chair and stood with his hands on his hips between the two sorcerers. "I don't accept this. Find another spell. Find a better one."

Merlin blinked.

Arthur gestured at the young Merlin and shouted, "If he uses that spell on me again he'll  _die_! That is  _not_  an option!"

"That's his destiny, Arthur. Not even the King of Camelot can control everything." Merlin twisted his torso so that he could see the younger Merlin behind Arthur. "He's been sacrificing everything for years and you didn't even know it. You're alive only because of him. Merlin and his magic."

Arthur's arms dropped to the sides of his blood-stained shirt. "If I'd known – If my father had known…"

"Uther would've burned Merlin at the stake."

Arthur didn't deny it.

"And now you know, Arthur. What will you do?" Elder Merlin clasped his robes above his heart and froze, blinked, trembled slightly. "Come here, Merlin."

Arthur stepped aside and Merlin knelt in front of his elder self. It was almost like looking in a mirror if he imagined his father's face combined with his own. "Listen," old Merlin said, "when the time comes to do that spell, don't hesitate."

"I won't," Merlin assured him, "I never do."

"I know. Understand this: Arthur needs you more than you realize. Only you can protect him on the battlefield, and only you can protect him from himself. I know he's a chore to live with," elder Merlin chuckled but even as he did so, a barely visible tear landed in his beard, "but living without him is… unbearable."

Merlin looked up at Arthur and then, shyly, looked away. When he turned back, his elder self had disappeared.

Thirty seconds passed. A minute. Merlin stared at the spot where his former self sat.

And then, without a word or the sound of a footfall, Arthur walked over to the wall and plucked off the one remaining sword. Merlin made a sound through his front teeth like some hybrid of a sob and a sigh. "If you're going to execute me for using magic, King Arthur," he whispered, "please, if you have any fondness for me, make it quick."

"Do you know what I do with men who treat me the way you have, Merlin?"

Merlin remained on his knees with his head bowed.

Arthur raised the sword over his head…

…and tapped it, as soft as a bee kissing a flower, on Merlin's right shoulder, and then his left.

"Arise," Arthur said, struggling to squeeze the words past his choked up throat, "Sir Merlin, Knight of Camelot."

Merlin's wide eyes travelled up Arthur's body to his face. "I…" he whispered. A grin bloomed from one cheek to the other. "I don't think I can. My knees are shaking."

Arthur's smile was warm. He bent at the knees, wrapped his arms around Merlin's body and helped him stand up, still hugging. "Merlin, my friend," he whispered, "let's go have a long talk."

**The End**


	5. Darkest Night

"What happened?" Lancelot asked. The look on Arthur's face answered his question. The prince and his knights sprinted to where Merlin lay, still, on his side. Arthur rolled him over, Lancelot lifted his head, and everyone gasped. Merlin's frozen eyes were sightless. His raven hair salted by snow. Ice covered his skin and clothes like the thickest blanket.

" _No_!" Gwaine yelled. He punched the wall and would've put his fist right through if it were a millimeter thinner. Elyian cursed and Percival bowed his head. Lancelot turned aside to hide the emotion on his face.

Arthur appeared as frozen as Merlin. He knelt there with his hands grasping his servant's arms, staring into his eyes, silently begging them to blink. Leon stepped forward and, after a moment's hesitation, placed his gloved hand on the king's shoulder. "Sire… Sire, he's gone. The Dorocha… It was instant, Arthur. Painless."

Arthur's hands shook. A tear tinier than an eyelash slid down his cheek. "Merlin," he whispered. "Merlin?" Gently he brushed the ice off his servant's cheek with his pinky. "Look at me." It was an order. "Look at me," he repeated, this time as a plea. Either he'd forgotten that his knights were watching, or he just didn't care. A quick, sharp sob erupted from the back of his throat and Arthur buried his face against Merlin's neck.

He instinctively reached for his sword when something cold wrapped around his neck. The knights gasped. Arthur sensed their bodies gathered around him, watching. Sluggish from exhaustion both physical and emotional, it took Arthur a long moment to raise his head. He saw the arm out of the corner of his eye – the one hugging him. He felt a warm breath on his chin, heard a weak voice whisper, "Arthur." And when he looked into Merlin's eyes and saw him looking back, Arthur's own happiness made him dizzy.

"A-Arthur, I'm c-cold," Merlin whispered through chattering teeth.

The knights cheered as if Merlin had just offered to buy the next round at the tavern. One by one they ruffled Merlin's hair, patted him on the shoulder, congratulated him on not being dead. He smiled at them, warmly, but made no move to sit up. When he started to shiver, he looked like he was riding a bucking horse.

Arthur wiped his wet eyes and cleared his throat. "Bring the firewood in here," he ordered with his sternest "prince" voice. "We have to keep him warm through the night. We'll figure out what to do in the morning. And bring the blankets!" Lancelot set their one torch against the wall and led the others outside. Arthur took his gloves off and helped Merlin put them on. Then he removed his chainmail. The padded, red tunic beneath held most of his body heat. Arthur stripped it off and then forced Merlin into it. When the shivering didn't let up, Arthur gathered Merlin in his arms and hugged him close. He rubbed his back and arms constantly until the knights returned. They also removed their armor and tunics and wrapped them around Merlin. Arthur didn't have to tell them what to do next. The knights formed a semicircle around their prince and his servant, torches lit and facing outward, eyes peeled and ears open. If the situation weren't so grim, Gwaine would have a comment or two about the prince holding his servant all night, but sometimes even he knew when to keep his mouth shut.

After a quarter of an hour Merlin finally warmed up enough that the ice on his skin melted away. The remaining liquid made him even colder at first. His teeth chattered so fast he couldn't get out more than a syllable. But in a fetal position, balled up in Arthur's lap with the prince continuing to rub his limbs, Merlin eventually felt some heat. "Arthur," Merlin whispered through white lips, "I don't think I'm going to be around long enough to be your court jester."

"Sleep, if you can," Arthur said to him. "I'd bet a hundred gold coins you'll be fit by morning."

"This works out perfectly, actually."

"What do you mean?"

"You need a blood sacrifice to seal the veil. I'm already dying so there's no reason why you have to give your life. Let me do it."

Arthur looked at him. "Merlin, remember what you said a while ago about how, if things had been different, we'd be good friends?"

"Yeah?"

"We  _are_  friends, good friends. The finest. And, Merlin, I'm not going to sacrifice my friend's life."

Merlin stretched his neck to get a better angle to look into the prince's eyes. "Are you just saying we're friends because I'm dying?"

"No, but…" Arthur sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm lousy at saying these things and I only get up the courage to try when… When we're in situations like this."

"I know. It's all right." Merlin's eyes darkened slightly. He relaxed against Arthur's chest as sleep tempted him. "Take me with you tomorrow, Arthur. Please."

Arthur said nothing, did nothing except keep his friend warm through their darkest night.

**The End**


	6. Death Wish

It was supposed to be a brief hunting trip. Easy. Uneventful. But, as usual, Merlin and Arthur ended up running for their lives.

Well, Merlin was running. Arthur was limping. He claimed that the tree root he tripped over came out of nowhere.

"Heavy," Merlin gasped. "You… are… too… heavy…"

"I don't even have my chainmail on!" Arthur hissed through clenched teeth. He tried, again, to put weight on his sprained left ankle but stars exploded across his vision. Merlin tightened his grip around his waist and on the arm wrapped across his neck. "Merlin, we're a league away from Camelot. If you leave me here, you'll go twice as fast. Get the knights and come back."

"Sorry," said Merlin without a whiff of apology in his voice, "but as usual, you're stuck with me, Arthur."

"They're on horseback. They'll be here in minutes. Merlin, for God's sake, what's the point in both of us getting captured?"

"Morgana wants to kill you, Arthur! I can't let her catch you." Horses whinnied in the distance, behind them and in front. Merlin turned left and yanked Arthur down into a ditch behind a tree blossoming with the first spring buds.

Arthur massaged his ankle. Sweat coated his skin and soaked right through his thin white tunic. "We're surrounded." Merlin suddenly snatched a dagger out of Arthur's belt. "What are you doing?"

Merlin thrust his arm elbow-deep into his pack. "Arthur, do you trust me?"

"Why are you ask-"

"I need you to trust me right now. Can you do that?"

"I suppose, but – Merlin,  _ow_! What the  _hell_ -" Arthur cradled his right hand. Blood dripped from an inch-long slice in his palm.

"Trust me, trust me," Merlin muttered. He held the knife above a crystal hanging from a gold chain and dropped a speck of Arthur's blood onto the tip. He then cut his own hand and splattered his own blood on a second crystal. "I'm going to loop this through your belt," he said, holding the crystal up to Arthur's nose, "and hide it in your trousers. Whatever happens, don't take it off."

"Merlin this is not the time to worry about hiding some jewelry you stole…" Arthur felt a pinch behind his eyes the moment the crystal touched his skin. His limbs tingled as if falling asleep. He looked down at his hands and swore that his skin's color and texture changed. "Merlin, what's going on?"

"I'll be you and you'll be me," Merlin said as he tied the first crystal to his own belt. "If Gaius' theory is right about how to work these things then all we have to do is add blood and…" Merlin dropped the crystal down his shorts and, faster than Gwaine could down a jug of mead, his body transformed into the exact likeness of Arthur Pendragon.

The real Arthur pressed himself flat against the tree at his back. "Magic? Magic that makes you look like me?"

His own smile grinned back at him. "And you like me," Merlin said. "Just an illusion. Remember to keep that crystal on you at all times." Arthur ran his hand through his hair and felt the stiff, scraggily locks of a servant. "I never realized how handsome I am," Merlin quipped.

Arthur frowned, frowned so deep that his eyebrows touched. "Merlin, what's the point of –" He realized then, what Merlin was thinking, and reached out and grabbed him by the scruff his own neck. "If Morgana thinks you're me she'll kill you, Merlin, she'll  _kill you_."

Merlin shrugged and said, softly, "Better me than you."

"No, Merl—" The King's sentence was cut off by a wave of magic that lifted them both into the air and launched them twenty yards away.

Morgana found them.

The last thing Arthur recalled before he passed out was the sorceress leaning over Merlin with her hands around his throat.

* * *

Merlin was beyond surprised when he woke up. He didn't expect to be alive, let alone conscious and in one piece, minus the headache. The sorcerer tried to roll over but a sharp pain in his gut stopped him. He groaned, pulled his arms beneath his chest and pushed up. His left wrist was stiff and the fingers refused to do anything more than be a fist. He landed on his back, hugging his stomach and staring, wide eyed, at the scene around him. Sunlight illuminated the mud and moss interior of Morgana's forest hut. Since his last visit, she'd constructed a prison cell half the size of Merlin's bedroom. Two Percival-sized guards glared down at him from the other side of the iron bars and, behind them, Morgana sat at a table enjoying a meal of bread and berries.

Merlin almost said "Arthur" but stopped himself in time. Instead he whispered his own name, trying to sound as Arthur-ish as possible. The warlock stretched his arms and legs and moved them in a fanning motion as if making a snow angel. The middle finger of his right hand brushed against something soft but solid and Merlin immediately crawled in that direction. He found boots, legs, and arms and – it was going to be hard to get used to – his own face. Arthur was pale and his eyes were closed. Merlin's head-ache turned into a head-throb, then. His eyes felt like gongs hammered by a giant.

He wormed his hands up to Arthur's face and poked his cheek until he woke up. "Wake up,  _Merlin_ ," he said pointedly when his friend's eyes fluttered open. "If I have to suffer such unbearable accommodations, so do you!"

"Accommodations," Morgana laughed. She tossed a blackberry into her mouth and made a show of enjoying the taste. "I must admit, brother, sometimes I miss your pompous ignorance. So very much has changed these past few years but your attitude is resolute. Somehow, I find comfort in that."

"So happy to help, sister." Merlin helped Arthur sit up with his back against the moss-covered wall and whispered, "Everything's going to be all right. How's your ankle?"

Arthur, wearing Merlin's face, struggled to find the right words. "I'm all right… Sire."

Morgana's chair scraped the floor when she stood up. "Welcome back, Merlin," she said, joining her guards at the bars. "You and I had so much fun the last time you were here I thought you'd want to come again."

"Last time?"

Morgana slid her thumb and forefinger up and down the bars. "Your screams were so delicious," she said, "I reminisce about them every night. Helps me sleep." Arthur's eyes widened. Merlin knew it was out of surprise and suspicion but Morgana interpreted it as fear. Her smile stretched and she ordered the guards to open the door. Merlin expected her to march right up to him but she strutted to Arthur. "What a loyal servant you are," she cooed. The witch took Arthur's chin in her hand and shook it like an infant's. "The king treats you like dirt yet, here you are, by his side."

Arthur's eyes flitted between Morgana and Merlin. "I always am," he said gradually.

Merlin wondered if that was the first time Arthur ever realized that.

"You're such a fool, Merlin, to be loyal to someone just because he's a king," Morgana cooed. "It's almost sad, honestly, that he's so fond of you. Because now I'm going to torture you while he watches."

Merlin's stomach – or was it Arthur's? – dropped into his boots. All the trouble he went through with the crystals and still Arthur was going to get hurt? What would Arthur do? he asked himself. Merlin did the only thing he could think of. He gathered every drop of moisture in his mouth and spit. He aimed for Morgana's hair.

He got her cheek.

Morgana shrieked and smacked him across the mouth. Then she grabbed him by the throat and slammed his head against the wall. "So you want to go first, Your Majesty? Very well." The guards lifted Merlin to his feet by the armpits and dragged him outside the cell. The same rope as before hanged Merlin, in Arthur's skin, by his wrists. He took a deep breath and willed himself to look like Arthur: brave, stubborn, unafraid of pain. It was even more difficult not to look the real Arthur in the eye.

Slowly, almost sensually, Morgana unbuttoned his shirt. She said nothing. No taunts. No threats. The air thickened with tension, suspense. Merlin almost wished for insults, for anything to distract him from whatever she was about to do. Somehow her silence was louder than words.

He took that thought back immediately.

When she did speak, it was a spell.

Arthur wouldn't wish this on his worst enemy, let alone his best friend. It looked like a million red ants crawled out from the tips of Morgana's fingers, marched across Merlin's chest and into the skin at the crest of his collarbone. At first his reaction was wide eyes. Then his body convulsed – his back arching in half, lifting his feet off the ground. His face went from pale to bright red in seconds and in that same amount of time sweat formed and dripped from every pore. Sweat that blushed and turned red. Red as blood… It  _was_  blood. Merlin's screams were so loud, so high-pitched that Arthur plugged his ears. The yell became a hiccup-cough-groan almost instantly.

Merlin had already screamed himself hoarse.

With a last look at Arthur his eyes rolled back into his skull and his body became limp.

Arthur grabbed the prison bars and shook them with all his strength. "Stop it!" he shouted. "Morgana,  _stop!"_ She did, and Arthur wasn't sure who was more surprised: him, her, the Percival-sized guards or Merlin. "Don't hurt him. He's not Arthur.  _I'm_  Arthur. He just looks at me because of magic."

Morgana snorted. "That's your plan for saving your master, Merlin? You make up a ridiculous lie so that you can take his place? I see no magic here and I'm the only one in this room who has magic!"

Arthur reached for the gold chain around his belt. "That's exactly what Merlin did. He took my place. And I won't let him die for me." He yanked out the crystal and threw it against the wall.

Morgana's jaw dropped as she watched Merlin's body morph into Arthur's. "What spell is this?" she whispered, mostly to herself. She turned back to the Arthur hanging from her rope. After a quick search she found an identical chain, an identical crystal. She dropped it to the floor and smashed it beneath her boot. The bleeding Arthur transformed into a bleeding Merlin. She snatched his chin between her thumb and forefinger and examined his face. "Where did you fools get –"

An arrow burst through the window and pierced a guard's heart. He fell in front of his companion, tripping him as he grabbed for a sword. Morgana ducked beside the fireplace as a second arrow came through another window. The guard dodged that one but a third hit his hip. He grabbed Morgana's elbow and led her out a back door just as the Knights of Camelot busted through the front. Lancelot broke Arthur free and he immediately started shouting orders: "Gwaine, help me with Merlin. The rest of you, after her!" The knights obeyed. Arthur rushed over to Merlin and untied the ropes while Gwaine held the young servant steady.

"I don't understand," Gwaine said when he saw the blood still leaking from every pore in Merlin's unconscious body. "Morgana had you, Arthur. Why did she hurt him?"

Arthur broke through the last knot and the two men gently lowered Merlin to the floor. "Let's get him back to Camelot," Arthur said, his jaw set and stony. "He can ride with me."

* * *

 "It's a good thing you didn't die," said a voice in Merlin's ear, "because  ** _I_**  want to kill you." The sorcerer pried his eyes open and found Arthur upside down and staring at him. His eyelids felt heavy – like gold coins lay on them. He licked his lips and found rough scabs that scratched his tongue. Before he had to ask Arthur held a cup to his lips and Merlin emptied it one drop at a time. He was in his room, in bed. His head lay on a pillow and the pillow lay on Arthur's lap.

Merlin lifted his hand to his nose and saw thousands of scabs the size of pinpricks. "What did she do to me?" he whispered.

"Something we don't have a name for," said Arthur in a flat voice. "Gaius doesn't even have a theory. You were sweating blood, Merlin."

"Do I have any left?" Merlin asked, attempting a half-joke and coming off sounding serious.

A minute passed and the two men went back and forth between looking at each other and avoiding the other's eyes. Finally Arthur spat, "Merlin, do you have a bloody death wish?"

Merlin blinked. "No."

"Well, it must be my mistake, then," Arthur said with anger on the edge of his voice. "Because it seems like every time we're in a life-or-death situation, Merlin, you try to choose death."

"I don't have a death wish, Arthur," Merlin said softly. "I have a life wish – for you."

"And don't you think I have a – a  _life wish_  for you, too?" Arthur's voice went up an octave. "You're so bloody busy protecting me; did it ever occur to that teeny brain that I want to protect  _you_?"

Merlin didn't try to get out of Arthur's grasp, but he did turn his head and bury his nose against Arthur's knee, breaking their eye contact. "You shouldn't."

"I should. I'm to rule over Camelot, protect its citizens and you, Merlin, are a citizen of Camelot." Arthur gently scratched Merlin's black hair. "An important citizen of Camelot."

Merlin patted Arthur's knee. He said nothing.

"I'm sorry. You're recovering. I shouldn't yell at you… now."

Merlin sighed. "If it will make you feel better, yell away."

"See,  _that's_  what I'm talking about," Arthur snarled. "I swear, if I actually did give you the option to take a day off or clean the army's boots, you'd grab a rag without a thought."

"Don't be silly. I'd rather die than clean three hundred pairs of boots that smell even worse than yours."

Arthur didn't let him change the subject. "Please, my friend," he whispered. His fingers returned to Merlin's hair and Merlin tightened his grip on Arthur's knee. "I mean it when I say that you are…" he gathered his courage to say the word and still winced when he said it, "…precious to me. Remember that I care about you as much as you care about me. I would die for you as you would for me. When we face death we do so together."

Arthur would've gotten even angrier if he knew what Merlin was thinking: had it been a mistake to befriend Arthur? It made it easier to protect him because they were around each other more, but it also put him in more danger because he would focus on Merlin's safety instead of his own. Would it be better to distance himself? Merlin wondered. Better if he was just another faceless servant instead of a valued friend? It wouldn't be better for him, personally, but would it be for Arthur's life?

Merlin thought he understood what it meant to sacrifice himself for Arthur.

He'd just discovered a whole new obstacle.

One he would deal with in the morning.

"Don't have to go anywhere, do you?" Merlin whispered to Arthur.

"No. I can stay here with you."

"All right. Just… just until I fall asleep again."

"I'll still be here when you wake up." And he was, his hands still cradling Merlin's head in his lap.

**The End**


	7. Worth Your Tears

The festivities in the castle courtyard finally died down around midnight. The whole of Camelot toasted the prince with every swallow of cider and made up songs about "Arthur the Dragonslayer." The crowd passed the hero around for an hour. Every woman kissed his cheek, every man patted him on the back, every child gave him a hug. They would rebuild in the morning. They would mourn in the morning. But for a time they did nothing but celebrate the destruction of the dragon that attacked Camelot.

Arthur hesitated halfway up the stairs to his quarters. "Arthur?" Concerned, Merlin put a palm against his back, afraid he would fall. He did, a few steps later. Arthur tripped and Merlin steadied him half a moment before his pale face kissed stone. He pulled the prince's arm across his neck. Arthur groaned and held his side the rest of the way. "I didn't realize you were hurt," said Merlin. "You should have said something." Arthur was swept up in celebration so quickly that he didn't have a chance to take off his armor or gloves, or just wash up. He only relieved his thirst because Merlin force-fed him half a jug of water. Merlin didn't let Arthur go until they reached the foot of his bed. He held the prince's arm parallel to the floor as he sat on the edge. Arthur's sigh made the bed curtains sway.

"Merlin," he said while his servant removed his gloves and boots, "I need you to go find out how many casualties there were, total."

"First thing tomorrow, Arthur," said Merlin as he unhooked the prince's gauntlets.

Either Arthur didn't hear him or he chose to ignore him outright. "Of the knights who rode out with us, how many survived?"

Merlin manually lifted Arthur's arms into the air and told him to hold still as he wiggled the armor off. "I saw Gaius tending to Sir Leon, but no one else." Arthur didn't resist, but didn't help, either, when Merlin peeled off his chainmail and shirt. The warlock realized, then, that the dragon did more damage than he thought. Arthur's entire torso was red as if from a sunburn. There was a diagonal column of skin from his bellybutton to the back of his neck made up of hundreds of blisters. Even worse, the heat from the dragon's fire warped the chainmail into sharp, teeth-like protrusions that stabbed Arthur when he fell. "Arthur, I need to get Gaius." Merlin counted six puncture wounds in his stomach.

"Just leave it be," Arthur whispered. Merlin cursed and started preparing two buckets: one with soap and warm water and another with ice-cold water. Arthur was so shell-shocked that he didn't even notice Merlin using magic. "When I was a boy and I was just learning how to use a sword, I imagined fighting a dragon."

Merlin began to bathe Arthur from top to bottom. He wiped the dirt out of his hair, the sweat from his brow and the blood from his eye. He was especially thorough with Arthur's hands.

"I practiced with a wooden sword. It was a stick, really. I always won. I always beat the dragon."

Merlin knelt on the floor and gently scrubbed Arthur's legs and feet. "That's what you did today, Arthur. You beat the dragon."

"Yes," Arthur whispered. Merlin heard something foreign in his voice. Something he couldn't describe. "But when I was a kid, when I imagined all this happening… Nobody died, Merlin. My friends weren't killed. The castle didn't burn."

Merlin, finished with the soap, soaked a thick clean cloth in the cold water and held it against the blisters. "What matters is that you defeated the dragon. He'll never threaten your kingdom again."

Arthur licked his lips and swallowed. "We shouldn't have gone after Balinor. I should've attacked the dragon the first night. So many lives would've been saved."

Merlin had the bandages ready but, suddenly, Arthur slumped forward and rested his forehead against Merlin's stomach. Merlin hesitated. He looked back and forth from the bandages to Arthur. Then he tossed them aside. He wrapped his left arm around Arthur's shoulders and buried the fingers of his right hand in Arthur's hair. Arthur sniffed, and Merlin heard the moisture. His friend was crying.

"Earlier, when I said that no man is worth your tears…" Arthur sniffed, his voice muffled by Merlin's shirt. "My father told me that once. I've been repeating it my whole life without a second thought. Without asking myself what it means. If I even believe it."

Merlin rubbed his thumb against Arthur's head. "And?" he coaxed.

"Father thinks that if the people see him cry, they'll think he's weak."

"And if people see you cry?"

"I think that every man – every life – is worth tears, Merlin. That's what I believe. I hope… I hope that when people see me cry, they'll think that I'm just… sad, just like them. They won't see a weak king. They'll see a king with heart."

Merlin rubbed Arthur's back as well as his scalp. "You're worth a lot of tears, Arthur," he said so quietly that Arthur nearly missed it.

Arthur reached up and lightly wrapped his hand around Merlin's wrist. " _You_  are worth so many, my friend," he said, "that I would cry myself dry."

** The End **


	8. A Dream is a Wish

Merlin and Gaius just sat down to a breakfast of cheese, eggs and cherries when Guinevere appeared at their door. "My Lady," said the physician with a slight bow, "how did the king fare last night? Has his condition changed?"

"His fever's improved but I don't think he slept a minute." Gwen hadn't either, judging by the dark half-moons beneath her eyes. She gathered her maroon gown in her fists and accepted the chair Merlin pulled out for her.

"Gaius can give him a sleeping draft," said Merlin.

"He won't take it. He says he doesn't want to sleep but he won't say why."

"He must sleep. He needs it to fight this sickness," Gaius said. He scooted the bowl of cherries over to Guinevere and insisted that she eat. "Is he in pain? Have the stomach cramps started again?"

"No. I mean, I don't think so." Gwen sighed and sunk deep into her seat. "He sent me here because he needs Merlin."

Merlin froze with a forkful of eggs to his mouth. "What's he need, food? I'll be there with breakfast in an hour."

"No, he says he just needs to talk to you."

Merlin's eyes narrowed. "If this is about that rip in his robe I promise I'll mend it today."

"Merlin…" Guinevere sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose. "Don't look so suspicious. You're his friend. He just wants some company."

"Or he wants to throw increasingly larger, heavier objects at my head. You know how grumpy he gets when he doesn't feel well!"

Gaius patted his apprentice affectionately on the back. "Don't worry, Merlin. He's still weak. I'm sure you'll duck in time."

Merlin rolled his eyes, and then jogged upstairs to the king's quarters. He walked in without knocking, and it was a good thing he did. King Arthur was trying, and failing, to get out of bed. As Merlin crossed the threshold he pushed off of the mattress and fell over, straight down like a chopped tree. Merlin slid across the floor on his knees so quickly that he must have used magic without realizing it. He shoved his right arm under Arthur's left and caught his head before it smashed into the floor. The king looked up at him with blank eyes. "Where have you been?" he asked in a faint voice. "I sent for you hours ago!"

"It's been minutes, Arthur," Merlin grunted as he helped him back into bed.

"You were supposed to bring me my dinner!"

"It's not even time for breakfast!" Merlin hoisted Arthur onto the side of the bed and pushed him back onto his pillows. "Where the hell did you think you were going?"

"Joussst…ing…" Arthur slurred. He frowned when Merlin piled blankets on him. "Merlin, am I sick?"

"Yes, Arthur."

"What about my father, is he all right?"

Merlin frowned and pressed the back of his hand to Arthur's cheek, then his forehead. "Arthur, you're king, remember? You're a sick king who isn't thinking straight. You need to sleep."

"Maybe you're the one who's not thinking straight, hm?" Arthur poked Merlin in the chest. "I don't need sleep I need…" Suddenly Arthur's eyes widened. He grabbed Merlin by the shirt and pulled his face close. "Merlin, I had the strangest dream."

"A dream?" Merlin wrestled his way out of his grasp, retrieved a clean cloth and dunked it in cold water.

"Nightmare, really." Arthur held still while Merlin pressed the cold compress against his forehead. "There was a terrible battle in a field. Bodies everywhere. Blood. Gwaine was dead. Leon, too. And Percival. Even Guinevere." Arthur looked into Merlin's eyes. "I saw Morgana standing over her with a knife. She was pregnant. Pregnant with my child." Merlin felt Arthur's body tremble. "You, too, Merlin."

"I was pregnant, too?"

Arthur squirmed as if the memories caused him physical pain. "You died. You died right in my arms. I held you like you held me just now," Arthur whispered. "You were fighting Mordred and your eyes were gold. You protected me from him, with magic. But he was so powerful. You looked… You looked so surprised. You kept telling me that you were sorry."

The compress slid out of Merlin's numb hand.

"Mordred and I fought. He was laughing. I felt his sword kill me." Arthur grabbed his forearms and squeezed them white. "It felt so real, Merlin. What does it mean?  _What does it mean_?"

Merlin sat statue silent, statue still. His thoughts raced like rats around the maze that was his mind, bumping into walls, doubling back at dead ends, desperate. "It…" he whispered, "Arthur, it was just a dream. It doesn't mean anything." Gently he unhooked the king's hands from his shoulders and guided them back down to the bed. He tried to wet his lips but there was no moisture in his mouth. Telling Arthur it was just a dream called to mind memories of Gaius saying the same thing to Morgana. "None of it was real. You're alive, see?" He took the palm of Arthur's hand and pressed it to his chest so that he could feel his own heartbeat.

Arthur's expression scrunched into some unnamed combination of anguish and bravery. He placed his hand over Merlin's heart. The tears the sorcerer tried to hide bubbled up. He squeezed Arthur's hand and said, "You need to sleep, now."

"I'm afraid –" Arthur whispered, "I'm afraid that if I fall asleep I'll wake up and see that it all came true."

Merlin's bottom lip trembled once before he gained control over it again. "It will never come true," he said, "because it was just a dream."

Although he appeared comforted, Arthur still refused to sleep. Merlin bowed his head to hide the gold color Arthur feared, and he cast a spell to put the king to sleep. The hand, still pressed to Merlin's heart, went limp. Merlin caught it and gently set it on the blankets.

A half hiccup, half sob echoed through the room. Merlin clasped both hands over his mouth.

Morgana…

Merlin always assumed that Morgana's magic came from her mother. But what if it was dormant in Uther's line?

If she got her powers from Uther, did Arthur have them, too?

Her premonitions came to pass. Would Arthur's?

And Merlin saw the same image in his dreams as Arthur did in his: Mordred piercing the king of Camelot with a sword. He wondered if Morgana saw it, too. If Mordred did. And if they did, did that mean it was even more likely to come to pass?

" ** _No_** ," Merlin said aloud to the empty room and his sleeping friend. Without thinking about it he fell forward and lay his ear against Arthur's chest, his cheek on his sternum. He needed to hear Arthur's heartbeat, too. "I won't let that happen." He grasped his friend's shoulders and held him tight. A tear slid down Merlin's cheek to Arthur's stomach. "I swear I won't let that happen, Arthur. I swear."

**The End**

 


	9. Throw the Boar

Merlin wasn't alarmed that he could barely feel his toes. They started tingling earlier that day when the snow reached his ankles. His shoes were bound to wear thin after so many years running up and down stone steps, trudging through horse manure and hiking through mud. What was alarming was the fact that the rest of his body was going numb, too. Merlin wasn't surprised. He found himself lying face down in a pile of snow. How he got there, he couldn't quite recall. The last thing he remembered was bickering with Arthur as they walked home from a hunting trip.

_Arthur_.

Merlin rolled onto his back. He couldn't hold in a yelp when he put weight on his left wrist. It wasn't broken, but close. Sunlight illuminated part of what Merlin assumed used to be an underground storehouse. The owners neglected to board up the wooden cellar doors when they abandoned it and Merlin and Arthur, thinking the ten by ten patch of earth covered in snow and sticks was solid, crashed straight down fifteen feet into the earth. The shattered remains of the doors and a ladder lay in pieces at Merlin's feet.

"Arthur?" Merlin grunted. He squinted but could only make out basic shapes – two of each. Merlin didn't want to think for too long about why he was seeing double, or where his headache came from. He started to crawl towards the largest shape and was relieved to find that it was Arthur. "Oi, Arthur, wake up." Merlin smacked the king's cheeks until all of the snow slid off. Merlin sighed and scratched the crown of his head. It was freezing, but for some reason, his hair was warm. Red stained the tips of his fingers. Merlin wondered if he hit his head on the ladder or the ground. "Wake up, clotpole," he said again. Except for the unsteady rise and fall of his chest, Arthur didn't move.

The boar and two rabbits they hunted fell into the storehouse with them. Merlin also had Arthur's sword and bow and arrows, a small pack with two hunting knives, a throwing net and two blankets. Merlin got up and kicked enough snow aside to make an Arthur-sized space. He put the first blanket on the ground and set the rabbits at one end for a headrest. Then he took off every layer of clothes he could spare and wrapped Arthur in a tight cocoon, carried him to the dry spot and covered him with the second blanket. The work made him dizzy, and slightly nauseous. He stuffed clean snow into his mouth a chewed it into liquid. The sun was setting and already halfway blocked by pregnant snow clouds.

"We have to get out of here by nightfall," Merlin said aloud, "and back to Camelot before that storm hits." He set aside the pain and nausea, and got to work.

* * *

Arthur was so cold he felt hot. A burning itch like fire ants woke him up. Snowflakes kissed his eyes. The sky came into view several blinks later. The rising star, Venus, winked back and Arthur realized, with a start, that it was sundown. He sat up and several layers of clothes pooled in his lap, dumping fresh snow on his exposed hands. A small fire burned at his feet. Out of habit, more than anything, he bellowed, " _Merlin_?"

"Up here," said a timid voice. Arthur twisted in his seat and found himself face to face with a tree root. Four feet above the root was a dagger stuck in the dirt wall with Merlin balancing on it with one foot. He'd stabbed the wall with a second knife, creating a short sort of staircase, but was having trouble pulling himself any higher by his fingernails.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked.

"Saving… us…" Merlin grunted. He pierced the wall with Arthur's sword and managed to climb a foot higher.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Saving us, eh?" Arthur climbed to his knees but the moment he put weight on his right leg it refused to support him. Arthur yelped – tears of pain flew out of his eyes as if he'd spit them. He collapsed to his side and hugged his leg.

"Is it broken?" Merlin called down.

Arthur's jaw clenched so tight he wondered if he could break his teeth. "I-I think part of the bone broke the skin." Arthur looked up to see Merlin reach over his shoulder and withdraw an arrow from Arthur's quiver. The dirt wall didn't cooperate when the sorcerer tried to insert the arrow for use as another foothold and before Arthur could shout a warning, Merlin slipped. He landed on his feet, barely. "I tried to dig footholds into the dirt but it's too loose to hold my weight," Merlin said.

Merlin's jaw started chattering from cold and Arthur kicked himself when he realized that his friend had given most of his clothes to him. "Merlin, come here," he said, and lifted the blankets.

"What?"

Arthur grabbed him by the collar and pulled him. "Merlin, your lips are turning blue, get under the blankets." Merlin didn't argue. The two friends sat back against the wall with the clothes and blankets covering them both.

Arthur shivered. "I'll just make you colder," Merlin pointed out.

"I need to make you warmer." Arthur rubbed his friend's arms until the shivering subsided. "Come on, now. Yammer away. I need a distraction from my leg." Merlin suddenly clenched his eyes shut and took a deep, steadying breath, the type Arthur always took right before a jousting match. "What is it?" Arthur asked tenderly.

Merlin pointed at his head. "I see two of you."

"What?"

Merlin gestured again. "Head. Bumped it."

"Well hopefully it knocked some sense into you and not out. You can't afford to lose the few smarts you have."

"Funny. Very funny. There's wood from the ladder. I should brace your leg with it; use the rope from the net."

"I don't know. Maybe we should burn everything we have. Gwen will send the knights after us when we don't show up. They'll see the smoke."

"And if the fire gets out of control? What then? We'd roast in this hole, Arthur." Merlin massaged the bridge of his nose. "We could throw the boar."

"What?"

"The boar. Tie the net to him, toss him up, get him caught in some shrub and then we can climb out."

"Throw the boar…" Arthur chuckled. "My sword would be better. I can throw it, implant it in a tree. I can't climb with a broken leg, though."

"And I can't with a sprained wrist. Fine pair, we are." Suddenly Merlin shoved the blankets aside and sprinted to the opposite corner of the storehouse. Arthur heard him vomit, cough, then vomit again. Merlin covered up the mess with snow and collapsed back onto his haunches. "I hurt my head," he said, "what does that have to do with my stomach?" He stumbled back to Arthur and curled up with him under the blankets again.

Arthur suddenly sat up straighter. "The arrows. We could tie notes to them."

"You shoot those without looking and you might skewer your own knights," Merlin said. "And I don't think I packed a quill and ink."

"My uniform. We'll rip it up, tie pieces to the arrows – when the knights see the red color they'll know where we are."

"Skewer…" Merlin reminded him.

"I'll shoot them at the tree branches above us."

"Can you shoot sitting down?"

Arthur almost knuckled Merlin's head but stopped. "Just start ripping, Merlin."

A quarter of an hour later they had red pieces of cloth tied to six arrows. Merlin helped Arthur get up and balance on his left leg. The king's face turned as white as the snow and Merlin was so dizzy he could barely hold himself still, let alone Arthur as well. They got their footing, finally, and Merlin handed the arrows to Arthur. The king shot all six at the trees but only landed one arrow. "They'll see it," Merlin reassured him. "Someone will see it. Arthur…" He swayed and said, hurriedly, "Arthur, I have to put you down." Merlin unceremoniously dropped the king onto his ground and then puked in the corner again. When he returned to Arthur, he found the king's eyes drooping. Merlin selected two pieces of wood from the ladder and knelt in front of him. "Let's brace that leg, then."

Arthur shook his head. "Can't waste the wood. We don't know how long we'll be here. If it's all night we'll need to burn everything we've got."

Merlin was too tired to argue. He tossed the wood into the flames and then settled back down at Arthur's side. Carefully he covered him with the blankets, leaving no skin bare, tucking them in beneath Arthur's chin. Then he gently pulled Arthur's body against his and rubbed his arms until he was able to feel his fingers again with their combined body heat.

"Don't you ever tell Guinevere about this," Arthur murmured.

"No promises," was Merlin's retort. "If you need to sleep…"

Arthur's eyes already closed. "Wake me when they rescue us." Arthur fell asleep against Merlin's shoulder and began to snore.

Merlin's eyes glowed gold and the fire grew hotter just as the skies started to spit ice at them. "Stay awake," Merlin ordered himself. "Just stay awake…"

* * *

Merlin felt something wet and warm slither down his neck. He expected to find a slug searching for shelter in his scarf. It was blood, and it was leaking from his ear. He sat up as smoothly and slowly as possible to keep from waking Arthur. Blood also covered the left side of his upper lip like half a moustache. The fire was dying but when Merlin raised his hand to feed it with magic, he had a hard time pointing right at it. He bent his knee to his chest and rested his elbow for support. Blue eyes glowed gold but instead of a fire spell, Merlin cast water. A miniature tsunami took out the only source of heat and light in the hole. Merlin cursed his clumsiness. He cast another spell but his mouth fumbled over the consonants, slurring his speech into magic that called flowers out of the snow. On the third try, he got a spark and maintained it. He slumped back against the wall and sighed deeply. His head throbbed and he felt like a pair of daggers pressed against the backs of his eyes. The moon over Camelot was high and three-quarters full. Merlin estimated that he'd been asleep for at least three hours, though he had intended to keep a watchful eye and a sharp ear out for rescuers. Surely by now the Knights were searching for them.

Merlin squinted, rose to his tiptoes, then cursed. The arrow Arthur shot into the trees had snagged on a branch just below where the moon hung. The arrow remained but the red fabric blew away in the wind. Who knew how long it would take the knights to find them now? In the dark the arrows looked like sticks of wood. If they saw the red cloth on a tree a mile away they would focus on that small area. No one knew exactly where they went hunting and not, therefore, how to track their steps.

Merlin knelt beside Arthur. The king's breaths were long, deep and slow. He shivered in his sleep and frowned. Merlin rolled the blanket up to the Arthur's knee and examined his broken leg. He almost threw up again. Looking at the bone protruding from Arthur's trousers made his stomach think he was riding a horse. There was little to do but wait, but Merlin couldn't just sit and do nothing. Gently he placed his hands on Arthur's skin just above and just below the injury. It wasn't the kind of thing he would have three tries for. Not even two. He told himself to focus, to enunciate and to use all of the strength he had. Gold returned to his eyes and he cast one healing spell after another. The bone retreated like a rabbit into its hole. Arthur's body convulsed and Merlin weaved a sleeping spell into his magic to keep him unconscious. The spell was successful, partially. Bones lined up correctly and the skin closed but Merlin couldn't completely heal it. Arthur was better, but still broken. At least he was less likely to get an infection.

"Now what?" Merlin asked himself. He pressed the knuckles of his middle and forefinger to Arthur's cheek. "What should I do, Arthur?" He stood up and managed, miraculously, to remain standing when the world around him spun. He wanted to kick something large against something larger, but settled for nudging a fist-sized ball of ice. The ice rolled towards the fire but stopped short in it. Merlin blinked. The ice hovered in a puddle of water produced by his accidental spell. It floated.

The idea struck him lightning, and it was just as dangerous.

Merlin laughed at himself to keep from panicking. He weighed his options but everything came down to key facts: the knights were unlikely to find them, Merlin was running out of strength and, consequently, magic, and Arthur would surely freeze to death not long after the fire went out. Merlin had to act.

Merlin picked up Arthur's sword and threw it like a spear out of the hole. "I'm so sorry to put you through this," he whispered to the sleeping Arthur as he picked up the daggers. "I can't think of anything else to do and if this headache gets worse I'm afraid I'll pass out." He tossed the daggers as well, then the rabbits and what was left of the wood. "I'm sorry, Arthur," he repeated. He tied the net to the boar's hooves and chucked it out of the hole as well. "I'm so sorry." He raised both of his hands and his face to the sky. Magic rose from the earth at his command and he harnessed it, shaped it, and launched it into the sky. He grew clouds from empty air. He shepherded moisture from the trees, from the ground, from far away streams into the weather. His golden eyes pulsed with light and at his command the clouds burst and dumped freezing water straight down into the hole. That was the easy part. Now it was time for a little acting.

Merlin draped his body over Arthur's and yelled from the bottom of his lungs to the top, "Morgana –  _Morgana_! Stop this – stop it! He doesn't deserve to die like this! Morgana!"

Arthur stirred, sniffed, and went from half-asleep to awake and ready within seconds. "Merlin?" he gasped, "What's going on? Is it – is it  _raining_?"

Merlin filled his face with panic and yelled, "Morgana found us!" Arthur reached for his sword but Merlin grabbed his wrist. "I scared her off! I threw the blades and nicked her, I think. She ran off but it must have been her who cast this spell." He pointed up at the clouds, then down at their feet. The rainwater already reached his ankles. "Arthur, get up – get up!"

Arthur must have forgotten that his leg was broken because he put all of his weight on it. By the time both men stood solidly on the ground, that ground was full of water knee-high and climbing. Arthur looked at the sky through flickering eyelashes. "Are you sure Morgana's gone?"

"Absolutely," Merlin grunted.

"Lousy luck. What is she trying to do, drown us?"

Merlin's eyes glowed. The wind picked up and the rain fell faster. "That's exactly what she's doing. You can swim, right?"

"With one leg?"

"Yes, Arthur, can you swim with one leg?"

" _Can anybody_?"

Merlin had no doubt that if Arthur could spare a hand, he'd smack his servant on the back of the head. The water rose to their waists, bringing cold with it that stiffened Merlin's legs. "Look, Arthur, we have to stay above water as long as possible."

"Bloody brilliant observation , Merlin," said the King through chattering teeth.

"Just hold onto me and kick as hard as you can."

"My leg, I think it feels better." Water rose to their chests. "Still hurts like hell but not as bad. Or maybe it's going numb." Chins. "Maybe… It'll stop now. The rain. If it stops right now we won't drown."

"Arthur, it's not stopping."

Arthur tipped his head back to keep his nose and mouth as far above the water as possible. Drops went down his nose and he coughed. "Sorry I dragged you on this hunting trip."

Merlin grinned with that manic smile of someone who knows that he's about to die. "Sorry I was a lousy servant."

"Could've been worse." Arthur spit out a mouthful of water. "I can't imagine how at the moment but…" Water sloshed over his face. He pushed off from the ground with his good leg and kicked frantically, bumping Merlin as he did.

Merlin wrapped both arms around Arthur's torso and lifted him out of the water. He kicked to stay afloat and chided himself for keeping his heavy boots on. "Hold… On…" he gasped. Arthur didn't see his eyes glow but definitely noticed the clouds emptying even faster. The hole filled to its halfway point with the two men floating on top. Merlin's plan unfolded as best it could – the only unforeseen flaw was how cold and stiff his legs got, almost to the point of him being unable to move them. Merlin moved the weather faster. His only hope was to pull down enough water before his limbs froze.

"Mer… lin…" Arthur sounded like he was gargling the rain. His blond bangs covered his eyes. "Won't die –  _won't die_!"

"What?"

Arthur rotated towards Merlin and wrapped his arm around his neck. "Have… idea… Just have to swim… long enough to reach the top… When we get there I can pull myself out!"

Merlin fought against rolling his eyes like you would fight back a yawn. "Brilliant. Brilliant, Arthur, I never thought of that." He couldn't hold back his sarcasm, but Arthur didn't notice.

"That's why you're the servant, and I'm the King."

That time Merlin did roll his eyes. "Keep kicking, we're almost there." He cringed when his foot cramped up. The sensation climbed his leg muscles, causing them to spasm and then go numb and useless. He struggled to keep Arthur above the water, which kept him below it half the time. Moment by moment his magic dissipated. The cold sucked out his strength and he wondered if he would even be able to push Arthur out of the hole. "Swim," he ordered himself. His breaths froze before they left his mouth. "Swim – swim!"

As the water level rose, so did the floating boys. Arthur grabbed onto the lip of the hole as soon as it was in range. Merlin shifted so that the king faced the wall and he treaded water directly behind him. As soon as Arthur got a good grip he pulled. Merlin doubled his kicking speed and pushed Arthur up as far as possible. He went under the water but couldn't raise himself until Arthur got out. Vaguely he heard his friend shouting something. The cramp reached his hip then, and his entire left leg went dead. Luckily, just then, Arthur's weight vanished. He'd made it out of the hole. Merlin used his arms to propel himself to the surface. He breathed and coughed and spit water out of his numb mouth. A hand appeared in front of his nose. He fumbled for it. "Boar!" he called.

"What?"

"Get…  _boar_!"

Arthur scrambled out of sight and half a second later the net attached to the boar landed in the water. Merlin wrapped his numb arms through it. "Lay on it… Add your weight!" Arthur must have obeyed because when Merlin pulled himself up, the net held him. He looped his foot through the weaving and beckoned all of his stomach and arm muscles. "Come on, Merlin!" Arthur yelled. "Come on!" Merlin grunted each time he climbed an inch. He got his chin over the lip and hung there, gasping. Snow slid down his neck and lowered the water's temperature even more. The boar, with Arthur straddling it like a horse, lay a few feet away. Arthur's face was white and wide-eyed and every few seconds he spit out another mouthful of water. "Almost there – you're almost there," Arthur told him.

A cramp attacked Merlin's other leg. He groaned and fell back down another six inches. As soon as the black hair disappeared underwater, Arthur shouted, " _Merlin_!"

Merlin focused on his arms and just used his legs to hold his torso still while he pulled on the net. Arthur sighed and shut his eyes in relief when Merlin's face reappeared. The sorcerer hung there for another moment and then, with a grunt that sounded not unlike a boar, he yanked himself out. He rolled and his momentum was so forceful that when he knocked into the boar, Arthur tumbled off of it to the ground. The two men lay in the snow on their stomachs, noses six inches apart, exhaling frozen air into the other's face. It stopped raining.

It took awhile for Arthur and Merlin to catch their breaths. The moon orbited a number of degrees. Finally, Arthur rotated his shoulder and bumped his elbow against Merlin. "Think you can stand?" he asked.

"Not yet," Merlin whispered.

"Merlin?"

"Arthur?"

"Your nose is bleeding. Your ears, too."

"Good," Merlin mumbled, "blood is warm and I am so-so cold." He shut his eyes.

"Don't fall asleep." Arthur wrapped his arm across Merlin's shoulders and squeezed. "Come on, Merlin, we have to get moving or we'll freeze to death."

"Mmm," Merlin mumbled.

Arthur reached beneath Merlin's chest and hauled out his right arm. He wrapped the servant's hand in both of his and rubbed it. Arthur made an "o" with his mouth and blew warm air into the crack between his thumbs. "Can you feel that?"

"Feel what?"

"Hell…" Arthur cursed. "1, 2, 3…" he counted, and when he reached 10 he did a push-up. From his knees he wrestled Merlin onto his side and pulled him into a rough bear hug. Quickly he rubbed his back in larger and larger circles. "When we get home, I promise to give you a day off."

Merlin's head lolled against Arthur's chest. "Just one?" His teeth chattered quick as a hummingbird's wings.

"Three?"

"I want a week. A whole week off so that I can visit my mother. And I want to use your bathtub."

"Don't push it, Merlin."

"All right, freeze to death, then."

"You're just stalling because you can't get up yet."

Merlin's skin was a whole shade whiter than Arthur's. The corners of his lips were blue. "I don't want to get up. When I get up I'll have to carry you."

"Probably."

"Really dizzy," Merlin mumbled. "If I start walking the wrong way you have to tell me."

"I will."

"How far away are we from home?"

"Two leagues." Arthur rubbed Merlin's back until the other man seemed able to keep himself upright. "All right, all right. I'll give you a week off and you can use the bathtub for a month."

"Deal." Merlin took a deep breath, rolled back onto his haunches and stood. He grabbed Arthur's wrists along the way. He slung the king over his shoulder, twisted him across the back of his neck and pulled until he hung there like a sheep. Merlin would avoid grabbing Arthur's broken leg if he could but there was no choice – to keep Arthur steady he had to grip him by both knees. The king groaned. He let his cheek fall against Merlin's arm. The sorcerer-servant started to walk.

"Wrong way," said Arthur. He pointed north. "That way, Merlin. Just go straight until I tell you."

"Straight?" Merlin gasped. His question-mark-shaped body turned left and stumbled towards a gap in the trees. "You're heavy."

"Of course I am. I'm soaking wet. I can't remember a time when I was this miserable."

"Infant."

"Simpleton."

Merlin trudged forward.

It snowed while they slept. White covered the path and there were very few animal tracks. Merlin's nose pointed at the forest floor and he rolled his eyes as far up as possible to see as many footsteps ahead as possible. Every few minutes Arthur warned him that he was drifting off track. Merlin obeyed, but didn't respond. There wasn't a spark of energy to spare. An hour passed. A blush returned to Arthur's cheeks thanks to the blood rushing to his head. Merlin's breaths went from even and slow to quick, short and desperate. Arthur knew they were in trouble when the blood pouring from his friend's nose got darker. He went from a turtle's pace to a snail's, to barely any at all. "Merlin?" Arthur said. The servant's grip on his limbs loosened. He staggered as if drunk. Arthur grabbed his arm. "Merlin –  _Merlin_? Are you all right?"

"Sorry, Arthur, I…" were the only words Merlin managed. He collapsed to his knees, then straight onto his face, tossing Arthur down a small hill in front of them.

Arthur rolled a good ten feet. He saw so many stars that the colors nearly blinded him. "Merlin!" he called. His friend lay face down in the snow. With a grunt, Arthur began to crawl: elbow, elbow, a push from his good leg, elbow, elbow, push. Relief briefly warmed him when he reached Merlin and saw his breaths in the air. Arthur felt the temptation to join him in the snow. How easy it would be to just curl up and fall asleep and feel nothing – not the cold, not the fear, not the pain. Guinevere's face appeared in his mind, then. Her smile, the way her eyes saw beyond the throne and the crown and right at HIM him, how she played with the hair above his ears when he held her in bed… He pictured Gaius mourning for Merlin. He thought of the kingdom he ruled and how so many of his ideas for justice and equality would die with him.

That was what got him the last few lengths to Merlin. The thought that Camelot would never be the kingdom he envisioned: safe, peaceful, healthy, happy.

Merlin stared at Arthur through half-lidded blue eyes. He reached his hand out, palm up, like a child for his father. A spherical drop of warm water hovered in the corner of his eye. Arthur's heart hugged itself. His lower lip quivered. He took Merlin's hand in his and raised their arms from the elbows as if arm-wrestling. "Get up," Arthur whispered to his friend, his own eyes host to tears, "Please, Merlin. Please get up."

Merlin licked his blue lips. "I think I've given you all I have," he whispered.

Arthur swallowed so hard he felt his Adam's apple bounce. "You always do," he said. "Now I need you to find more." Merlin's eyes pointed at Arthur but he seemed unable to focus on him. "I'll give you a month off."

Merlin chuckled soundlessly. Miniature icicles hung from the ends of his hair. "I said I'd protect you or die at your side." He shrugged.

"I can't do this without you."

"You'll get home. Gwaine and the others will find you."

"No, I mean… life, Merlin." Arthur swallowed the nothingness in his dry throat and repeated something he'd said before. "You're my only friend and I couldn't bear to lose you."

Merlin smiled. "Really?"

"Really."

Merlin's eyes closed and his hand in Arthur's went limp. His smile – a look of satisfaction – remained even after he passed out.

Arthur raised his chin. He stared at the white treetops and ordered himself to get closer to them. His broken leg was completely numb. Though he limped, he could stand on it. Lifting Merlin, on the other hand, was, at best, unlikely. Gently, Arthur untied the red scarf around Merlin's neck. Half of it was still damp, the other half frozen stiff. Arthur did his best to shake the snow off and stretch the fabric. Then he tied one end around Merlin's left wrist and gripped the other end just as tight. Arthur trudged towards Camelot, pulling Merlin like a sack of grain. He focused on only one thing: putting one foot in front of the other. He was so focused that he didn't hear the horses neigh. He didn't see the red capes. Even when a faceless figure forced him onto a horse his boots kept moving.

* * *

**One Week Later…**

"Merlin, you've been in there for an hour. Out. Now."

"You said I could use the tub for a month."

"Yes, once a day for a month. I didn't say you could soak in it every minute of the entire month!"

Merlin lifted his toes out of the water and examined them. "I'm not even prune-y yet."

Arthur stood leaning against his dinner table with the arms crossed against his chest. "I'll take your towel. I'll take your towel and you'll have to roam the castle naked looking for one."

"I'll just dry off with your nightshirt." Merlin flicked water at him.

Arthur chuckled and used his sleeve to dry his face. His father had beheaded servants for less.

He, on the other hand, had his own idea for punishing Merlin's insolence.

He dumped Gaius' leeches into the water.

**The End**


	10. The Yoke Spell

A semi-conscious King Arthur stared through half-open eyes at his servant who sat at the foot of his bed, leaning against the bedpost, with his dirty boots on the king's silk sheets.

"…never met someone I wanted to protect so much," Merlin was saying, "other than you, I mean. Not that you know that. Not that you know any of this." Merlin sighed and opened a thick, dusty leather-bound book in his lap. "Freya was special, precious. So delicate and innocent. So insightful. The few days I spent with her were…  _defining_. And I want to tell someone other than Gaius about her. About this." He pointed at his heart. "About the real me, but I can't. I can't tell you. At least not when you're conscious and actually listening to me."

Arthur felt like he was wearing a hundred pounds of chainmail. His throat sounded like he was gargling stones and his lungs seemed to have shrunk to the size of an acorn. He knew that he would breathe easier if he sat up, but he could barely move.

Merlin read no more than a page of the book before he tossed it onto the bed, briefly bumping Arthur's foot. He massaged the bridge of his nose and then bounced to his feet. As he cleared dirty cups and dishes from a tray at Arthur's bedside, he continued to speak. "I suppose this is the closest I'll ever get to being able – safe and able to tell you these things. To tell you how I saved you from the Dragon, how I saved Gwen from Morgana, how I saved Uther from insanity." Merlin banged a cup into a tower of two others and Arthur jumped. The servant didn't notice the movement. "Part of me almost hopes you'll be unconscious for another day or two just so I can speak to you without you talking back. Maybe one day I'll just tie you up and gag you and  _make_  you listen, you prat."

"Don't… You… Dare…" Arthur whispered.

The tray in Merlin's hands dropped, cart-wheeled off of the edge of the bed and dumped a dozen plates, cups and spoons onto the stone floor. The racket was so loud that the guards outside busted through the door with their swords drawn. Merlin looked at Arthur as if he'd sprouted a third eye. "Arthur?" he gasped. Merlin pivoted and pointed at the guards. "Go get Gaius, quick!"

"Can't breathe," Arthur said, or thought he said, and had to repeat when Merlin leaned closer. "Help me," he whispered, "help me sit up…"

Merlin lifted Arthur's head and stuffed every pillow on the bed beneath his back and neck. Arthur felt one layer of the chainmail lighten up but the rest was pulling him down to drown in his own gasping breaths. "What's wrong with me?"

Merlin sat on the edge of the bed and cupped Arthur's cheeks in his large, cold, calloused hands. "You're sick. There's something wrong with your lungs," he explained while he traced Arthur's eyebrow with the side of his thumb. "I couldn't wake you up yesterday."

Arthur shut his eyes but kept his lips open. "Others? My people?"

"No one else is sick, Arthur. You have to stay awake." Merlin took a fistful of the king's shirt and shook him. "Gaius has to give you some medicine. Arthur…  _Arthur_?"

* * *

 

Gwen was there the next time Arthur awoke. He couldn't see her but the scent of her skin hovered in the air. He listened for her voice or her footsteps but after several moments all he heard of her was crying. He lifted his hands. His instinct was to reach for her, to stroke her hair, to guide her cheek against his. To hold her. To comfort her. To tell her everything was going to be all right.

"Everything will be all right, Gwen," said another voice that Arthur recognized as Merlin's. He heard the distinct shush-ing sound of a hand rubbing clothes and he felt assured that Merlin was doing what Arthur could not: patting her on the back, hugging her tight, comforting her.

"I can't go on without him," Gwen sniffed. Arthur couldn't see her but he rotated his head to the left, towards her voice. "We've been married for a week – is that all we get? I want a life with him, Merlin. I want to hold his son in my arms."

"He's resilient. He'll make it." Arthur recognized the tone of Merlin's voice. He was unsure, anxious.

"I want," Gwen hiccupped, "I want a lifetime with him. Everything we've gone through, don't we deserve it? He's such a good man, Merlin. A fine man. I know he picks on you but you know that, right? You know his heart?"

"I know his heart." Gwen and Merlin stayed silent for a long minute, and then another. By the time they spoke again Arthur was already unconscious.

* * *

 

Arthur had heard stories about it, but didn't believe it. Of course, he also didn't used to believe that the Valley of the Fallen Kings was cursed. He also didn't used to believe that Gwen would ever be his wife or that Morgana would betray him.

Arthur found himself looking down at his own body and the two figures beside it.

"Merlin," Gaius was whispering, "You've barely slept and I know you haven't eaten. Do you even have the strength to do this?"

"I always have the strength when it comes to Arthur," Merlin said. "And I always find it even if I don't."

"You've never tried the Yoke spell before so who's to say you'll even survive? The sickness is killing him, Merlin, there's no reason why it won't kill you after you take the symptoms into yourself."

"Gaius, I can't cure him so I'm doing the next best thing. I've been drinking those potions for days. My body is prepared to fight this. Arthur is barely breathing. You said so yourself that he won't last another hour."

"Merlin—"

"Just watch the door, Gaius, please."

Arthur watched, fascinated, as Merlin stretched his fingers and placed his hands on the king's chest. His eyes turned gold and he spoke words that Arthur didn't recognize.

Arthur saw the Death. It was visible to him. Not visible to his eyes, no, visible to his soul. It looked like a living shadow. It crawled on a million legs out from Arthur's lungs, up Merlin's arms and into his chest. As Arthur felt lighter, Merlin started to lean forward as if bricks were piling on his back one by one. He coughed, muscled through it to spit out a final paragraph of gibberish, and then coughed harder.

In one fluid movement, Arthur dropped back into his body and Merlin dropped to the floor. Arthur heard Gaius shout the servant's name as he drifted off to sleep once more.

* * *

 

Arthur held Guinevere's hand tight as they walked into Merlin's bedroom. Gaius sat on Merlin's bed, chatting with the recovering boy. He looked pale, but not overly so. His breaths were heavy, but not painful. Gaius stood and bowed slightly when he saw them. "Sire, I'm so very glad to see you on your feet."

Arthur squeezed his wife's hand. "As am I, Gaius. Thank you, again, for saving my life." Gwen beamed at him. Her smile was as large as her bright eyes. "And when will I have my servant back?"

Merlin coughed and rolled his eyes. "Don't rush me, this is all your fault. You passed this onto me."

"Not on purpose."

They all shared a chuckle interrupted only by Merlin's question to Arthur, "What's wrong?"

Arthur straightened. "What?"

"You have this look about you."

Arthur exchanged looks with Guinevere, who simply shrugged. "I was just thinking… I heard you say some odd things while I was ill and I can't figure out if I was dreaming or not," Arthur said slowly. "And I have this odd memory. I dreamt that I was dead, or almost, at least. I was floating above my body, looking down. And I saw you do something to me. Something… magical."

Merlin shifted his weight in his bed. "Of course it was a dream. How could you be looking down at your body?"

"Well that's why I have a look about me." Arthur started to ask another question but Gaius cut him off.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," said the physician, "but perhaps it would be best to let him get some sleep."

"Of course." Arthur started to approach Merlin, thought better of it and turned to leave with Guinevere. "I'll visit you later, shall I?" he called.

"If you must," Merlin sighed with fake annoyance.

Arthur smiled and exited. He didn't see the frightened look exchanged between the servant and the physician.

**The End**


	11. Revelation

No one in Camelot expected anything spectacular to happen that day. Gaius was mixing potions. The Knights were training. Arthur and Guinevere were dining on chicken and cherry tomatoes. Merlin was polishing the king's armor. The cook was yelling at innocent servants.

But then it started to rain oil.

The clouds came from nowhere. They arose from the forests as if born in rabbit holes. It was an hour until dusk but the clouds extinguished all sunlight. Merlin sprinted outside and joined Arthur, Gwen, Gwaine, Percival and Leon on the front steps of the citadel. It began to rain – not the soft, cold blobs of water but sticky, sharp spears of what appeared to be the same oil used in Camelot lamps. No one spoke. There was nothing to say that wasn't obvious and, therefore, no more than a waste of breath. It rained long enough to drench every square millimeter of the castle. The clouds remained in the sky, glaring down at them.

And then it started to rain fire.

A thousand lit arrows launched out of the woods, followed by a hundred catapults ejecting horse-sized balls of fiery straw. Everyone put two and two together simultaneously. Sorcery – Morgana's magic, most likely – doused them with oil and now an army – Morgana's troops, most likely – were moments away from murdering them all with fire. It all happened so fast, so unexpectedly, that there was nothing to do but acknowledge the fact that they were about to die. King Arthur clasped his wife's fingers and put his hand on Merlin's shoulder. They exchanged panicked, apologetic looks. There was no time for words.

What happened next seemed to occur in slow motion. Merlin smiled sadly at Arthur, then gently patted his friend's hand before he walked out of his grip. Merlin marched down to the bottommost stair, took one step into the soaked courtyard and raised both arms high above his head. He splayed his fingers wide. He reached deep inside the earth and inside himself. His eyes glowed gold so brightly that Arthur swore he saw a halo around the ends of Merlin's black hairs.

The bales of straw streaming towards them like comets froze in midair. The arrows hovered not unlike a thousand fireflies. Crowds watched, jaws unhinged, as the arrows rotated. They pointed back the way them came, rested for a beat, then careened into the woods at twice the speed they'd approached. Catapults collapsed under their own ammunition. Bandits ducked behind trees, then scampered away in the opposite direction. Their cries of shock and fear were louder than the cheers and claps coming from every citizen of Camelot. The army retreated. The witch left to lick her wounds. The invasion – the catastrophe – had been thwarted.

Merlin shanghaied Morgana's clouds and splashed so much water down on Camelot that the oil washed away in seconds. The sun reemerged with the brightest grin. Servants' heads popped out of castle windows and stables. Merchants crawled out from behind their tables and Gaius came running out of his chambers. He gasped when he saw Merlin standing in the courtyard with his eyes glowing and his arms up. The physician clenched the fabric above his heart and squeezed it.

The sounds of chirping birds resumed. Horses shook water out of their manes, pigs returned to their meals, cooks to their cooking. Merlin slowly lowered his arms and folded his hands in front of him. Then, with his back still to his friends, he fell onto both knees and bowed his head.

All eyes turned to Arthur.

The king looked like he was unsure if what he'd just witnessed was real or a vivid dream. It took several moments for his mouth to close, his eyes to narrow, his fist to unclench. Arthur squeezed Guinevere's hand, and then released it. He walked past his knights without a word.

Merlin heard Arthur approach. His boots stopped right under Merlin's nose. Merlin sighed. His face dropped further and he closed his eyes.

A forefinger slipped beneath his chin. Arthur drew Merlin's eyes up to his like you would lift the face of a flower. He tugged until Merlin climbed to his feet and stood tall before him. The tears in the foreground of the sorcerer's eyes briefly masked the ones in the king's. Merlin held his breath.

Suddenly, Arthur grinned so wide that he added new wrinkles to his cheeks. He threw his arms around Merlin and embraced him.

Relief nearly made Merlin's knees fail. He felt as if the world had been lifted from his shoulders – a dozen worlds. He laughed, and dropped a few tears, and hugged Arthur back.

** The End **


	12. An Eternal Story

Merlin didn't go back to Camelot. He was presumed dead along with King Arthur. His friends mourned him – Gaius, Gwen, Leon, Perceval – but there was no memorial service in the courtyard for a mere servant. His name was not listed with Gwaine's on the stone tablet memorializing those who died for the King. No monument was made in his image, like the one made in Arthur's.

The kingdom continued, and prospered, under Queen Guinevere's rule. A week after her husband's death she realized that she was pregnant with his child. Seven months later she gave birth to a son: Prince Arthur Merlin Pendragon. She remarried six months after that. Sir Leon was her confidant, at first. Her guard, protector, consoler, friend. Gwen hesitated to pursue a romantic relationship but then she realized that her heart was big enough to hold both her eternal love for Arthur and her budding love for Leon. They named their daughter Igraine. Gaius passed away quietly in his sleep the night Igraine was born.

After his best friend died in his arms, Merlin wandered the land, aimlessly, for months on end. He had nothing but his magic and left nothing in his wake except footprints and dying campfires. He spent most of his time wondering what he could have done differently. Would Arthur still be alive if he'd turned left instead of right? Would Arthur still be alive if he'd killed Aithusa before the dragon hatched? Would Arthur still be alive if Uther was? Would Arthur still be alive if he'd summoned Kilgharrah to transport them sooner? Would Arthur still be alive if he hadn't told Morgose what poison Morgana drank? Would Arthur still be alive if Merlin didn't speak with his father so long in the Crystal Cave?

It was that memory of his father that led Merlin back to the Crystal Cave nearly a year after Arthur's death. He lay down in the same spot his father stood and he wept long and hard. A pair of boots stood in front of his nose when he woke up. He expected to hear his father's voice say his name.

He heard Arthur's.

"Merlin."

Merlin's long black hair curtained his face and his short beard cushioned his chin when he pressed his nose to the floor. Slowly, he lifted his head, then spoke the name aloud for the first time in a year. "Arthur?" The Once and Future King stood tall and proud in the center of the Crystal Cave. His spirit resembled Balinor's: grey-white, nearly transparent, there but not  _really_  there. He looked like he did when Merlin last saw him, minus the bloody hole in his chainmail. Tears traveled down Merlin's cheek to his beard. "My friend," he whispered, "I've missed you. I've missed you so much."

Arthur smiled sadly. "Like you father, Merlin," he said, "I am always with you."

Merlin got up and looked, once again, into his friend's blue eyes. "You are?"

"We were together once," Arthur said, "and we will be together again, in the future."

"When?"

Arthur shook his head. "I haven't been told yet. Maybe tomorrow, maybe in a thousand years."

Merlin winced as if the words stabbed him. "I cannot imagine waiting a thousand years, Arthur. I barely survived this past year."

"But you will, right?" Arthur's eyes narrowed and the muscles outlining his neck tensed. "You'll be there when I wake up?"

"I'll be there," Merlin reassured him with a whisper, "I swear, whatever it takes, I'll be there. I won't let you down again."

Arthur stepped closer. He tried to put his gloved hand on Merlin's shoulder, but was unable to. "Emrys," he said, and Merlin's heart warmed up, "you did not let me down. Please don't spend your life thinking that."

"My fault," Merlin hiccupped, "my fault you died. If only I'd—"

Arthur shushed him. "No 'if only's, old friend. You can't live a full life with 'if only's."

"Then what should I do?" Merlin said so softly that he barely heard his own voice. "I don't know what to do with myself when I don't have you to protect anymore."

"Wait patiently," was Arthur's counsel. "Help people, guard the kingdom you helped me build. Stay vigilant. My return will be sudden and unannounced and I'll need your help to acclimate. And when you get lonely, come here to the Cave. Come speak with me, spend time with me. Our roles are reversed now, Merlin."

Merlin sniffed. "What do you mean?"

"You spent your life serving me." Arthur reached out, again, to touch his friends, but the dimensions separated them. So, the spirit-soul of King Arthur Pendragon kneeled in front of his friend. "Now, Merlin, however I can, I will serve you. You, the Once and Future Sorcerer."

Merlin laughed. His depression lifted, slightly, like the sun winking from behind a cloud. Hope was so unfamiliar that he barely recognized it when it returned to his heart. "Our story's not over yet, is it?"

Arthur grinned. Merlin saw the familiar confidence, audacity, resolve. "No, my friend," said the king, "our story is as eternal as  _magic_."

** The End **


	13. Goodbye Guinevere

From his position sitting against a downed tree, Arthur watched through quarter-lidded eyes as Merlin piled various herbs and fungi onto a curved, oblong wooden bowl. He mashed the flower petals, ground up the roots, mixed it all up with water and stirred until it smelled like rotten cauliflower. After a quick, shy glance towards Arthur, the sorcerer whispered words into the concoction. It bubbled, turned blue, and thickened into a paste. Without looking into his eyes, Merlin gently rolled up Arthur's chainmail and tunic and peeled off the bandages Gaius applied. Arthur hissed. The bandages yanked up dried blood and hair. Pus and fresh blood leaked down his stomach. Merlin grabbed a clean cloth and mopped it up, then tossed the dirty supplies into their fire.

"Merlin?"

Merlin lifted his eyebrows to show that he was listening.

"I wasn't imagining it. I heard you."

Merlin dipped the three middle fingers of his right hand into the paste and rubbed it on Arthur's wound. "Heard me?"

"Your voice. You were speaking to me in my sleep. You told me about Morgana's plans to outflank us."

"Yes." Merlin finished applying the medicine and wrapped the wound up with fresh bandages. Gently he pulled the tunic back down, and then the protective chainmail. Extra weight didn't help the pain but it was better than leaving Arthur exposed during an attack. "Morgana trapped me in a cave. I had to warn you somehow."

"The whole army would've been massacred if you hadn't," Arthur whispered. "How did you do that? Magic?"

Merlin folded up the remaining bandages and packed them in his rucksack along with the bowl. Merlin stood, then, and walked beyond the fire to the horses. Arthur watched him closely. How odd, he thought, that such a powerful magician moved so clumsily. How odd that a man who could easily rule as a king chose to serve one instead. How odd that a wizard spent most of his days shining armor and scraping horse manure off boots. Arthur marveled at his friend. At his power. That much power was bound to corrupt but somehow, Merlin remained unscathed. Merlin was incorruptible.

Merlin returned with a crystal the size of his fist and the same color as the moon above. He held it out to Arthur, who stared at it. He could barely lift his own jaw, so it might as well have been a boulder. Merlin realized his mistake and sat back down beside his friend. "What are you doing?" Arthur asked.

Merlin's eyes flashed gold. He held the crystal in front of them and an image appeared. It was a doe – a thin, young deer tiptoeing through the woods, sniffing at the low-hanging branches of maple trees. Arthur's hunter's ears perked up just then when a twig snapped fifty feet behind them. "Is that the same doe?" he whispered. Merlin nodded. Another flash of gold precluded a second image: a bird's eye view of Ealdor, Merlin's hometown. The crystal zoomed in on a small house, through a tiny window, onto a woman sitting alone by a fire, knitting and humming an old lullaby. "Your mother."

Merlin nodded. "As we speak." He rubbed the palm of his thumb across her cheek.

Arthur perked up and sat up, suddenly. So suddenly that the puncture wound throbbed and the blade inching toward his heart bounced. "Can you see Morgana? See what she's doing, where she is?"

"Arthur—" Merlin dropped the crystal and used both hands to hold his friend still. "I tried. Her magic is blocking me. She's shielding her followers, as well. Maybe I could breach her walls but it will take time. I just learned how to do this yesterday."

"Show me more," Arthur insisted. His cheeks flushed from the fire's heat but the fresh stabs of pain turned him pale. He grabbed Merlin's sleeve and shook his arm back and forth.

"All right, all right." Merlin only had to use a third of his strength to wrestle Arthur safely back against the tree. "I will if you promise to keep still."

Arthur mirrored Merlin's hesitant smile. He settled back down against the tree, but he'd wasted a lot of energy. His body teetered. It was unable to keep balanced. Merlin wrapped his left arm around Arthur's shoulders and pulled him in tight. The king's cheek slid off the tree trunk and landed on Merlin's shoulder. Neither tried to wiggle out from under or away from the other. That gesture – or perhaps the lack of other gestures – rekindled the hope in Merlin's heart that Arthur was still his friend. There would be time to address that later, though. Merlin dug into his magic and funneled it into the crystal. "What do you want to see?"

"Camelot. Show me the citadel."

Merlin obeyed. The crystal showed them the topmost tower of Camelot, then traveled slowly to the ground while rotating clockwise. They watched guards doing their rounds, servants doing laundry, mothers bathing their infants. Gaius was getting ready for bed in his chambers. Leon sat silently in the armory and cleaned his sword. The crystal descended into the tombs beneath and both Arthur and Merlin gasped when they saw Gwaine's body lying cold on a stone table. Perceval stood over him with tears in his eyes. Gently he folded his friend's hands over his heart, then arranged his sword over his chest. Perceval arranged Gwaine's hair, smoothed out every wrinkle in his robe and shined his boots. All the while, tears cascaded down his cheeks, but he didn't make a single sound.

Merlin sniffed and rubbed his eyes. "Not Gawine," he said. Arthur was too tired to lift his hands high enough to wipe away his own tears, so Merlin untied his handkerchief and blotted his eyes himself. Merlin pulled his friend closer until he settled flush against his side. "You should rest now," he told Arthur. "Being upset isn't going to help you recover."

Arthur blinked away a fresh tear. He said one word: "Guinevere?"

Merlin felt the hypothetical hand wrap around his throat. "You really should sleep."

"Please, Merlin." He spoke evenly, clearly, as if it was his one and only chance to ask his one and only last request. "I want to see my wife one last time."

Merlin couldn't deny him that. Afraid of what they would find, Merlin looked throughout the castle for Gwen and, to his surprise, found her alone in the throne room. She sat in front of Arthur's throne with her arms wrapped around the base. Merlin didn't think it was possible for his heart to break anymore but right then another piece of it cracked. Gwen was hugging Arthur's throne and weeping.

"Oh, Gwen," Arthur groaned, "don't cry." He looked up at Merlin with such a desperate expression that the sorcerer had to look away. "Can I speak to her?"

"Perhaps. I'm not sure if it's only the one performing the magic who can communicate. You could try but you might just frighten her."

Arthur stroked the image of her hair as if it was the real thing. "Guinevere," he said, "Guinevere, can you hear me?" Gwen's sobbing didn't cease. Her ears didn't perk up. Arthur's face fell. His hand slid off the crystal and fell, limp, into his lap. "At least," he whispered as if she could actually hear him, "I got to see your face."

Merlin cleared his throat and pulled the crystal closer to his mouth. "Gwen?"

The queen didn't stir at first, but after the third time Merlin spoke her name, she raised her head and looked around the room. Somehow she looked hopeful even wearing a frown. Seeing no one there, she folded her arms on the throne and sunk her head into the gap her her forearms made. "She heard something," Arthur pointed out.

"She must have thought she was imagining it."

"Tell her…" Arthur struggled for the perfect words, but gave up when he realized there was only one thing to say. "Tell her I love her."

Merlin cleared his throat and spoke as loud and clear as possible. "Guinevere, it's Merlin, I'm here with Arthur. He says to tell you that he loves you. Can you hear me? He loves you, Gwen, Arthur loves you."

The boys' muscles tightened with suspense. Guinevere turned her head and the crystal zoomed in on her wet cheeks. She appeared sleepy – all cried out. "Arthur…" she whispered, whether to herself or to Merlin or Arthur, they weren't sure. "Arthur…"

"I love you," Arthur said into the crystal, not caring that she couldn't hear him. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

The crystal blurred briefly when tears sprung out of Merlin's eyes. He sniffed them back and held Arthur closer. Guinevere sighed, then yawned, then settled deeper into seat. As her breathing began to even out in sleep, she whispered, "I love you too, Arthur."

Arthur's left hand covered his mouth but the sob still escaped. Merlin pocketed the crystal, then, and wrapped both of his arms around his friend. Arthur collapsed against the sorcerer's chest and screamed all of his rage, pain and longing into Merlin's ribcage. Minutes passed before Arthur quieted down. He continued to hug Merlin with one hand and his wound with the other. "I'll get you home to her, Arthur," Merlin swore.

"Merlin?"

Merlin rubbed the tendons running up and down Arthur's neck. His touch was so light that Arthur felt only the comfort, not its source. "Yes?"

"I've been thinking about all of the happy accidents that have happened. Unexplained quakes, a gush of wind at the right moment, bucking horses, weapons missing me by a finger's breadth… All of that was you, wasn't it?"

"Most of it."

"You're the sorcerer. You defeated Nimueh and Morgose. You defeated the dragon."

"Yes."

"Well, Merlin," Arthur whispered, "you were the  _ugliest_  woman I've ever seen."

Both men laughed and for once, Arthur fell asleep with a smile on his face instead of a cringe. Merlin continued to stroke his skin. He watched, nearly mesmerized, as gravity gradually erased Arthur's smile.

Merlin's smile vanished at the same speed, at the same time.

** The End **


	14. The Dreadroot Poison

"When Arthur asks why I've ignored my chores all morning," Merlin said to Gaius, "I'm going to tell him to blame you."

Gaius gave his young apprentice a half smile. "This was your idea. Now, lie back." Merlin lay flat on Gaius' floor and folded his hands on his stomach.

"It was my idea to experiment with the Dreadroot Poison, yes," Merlin admitted, "but I didn't mean that you should experiment on  _me_."

"Fine, then." Gaius uncorked the short, slim bottle and raised it to his lips. "Shall I take the potion?"

"No, it will upset your stomach." Merlin squirmed. "Why can't I die in my own bed?"

"I'm not sure what the side effects will be. I can't have you start twitching and roll right off it."

"Gaius, I was there when Arthur took the potion years ago. He neither rolled nor twitched."

"Merlin, for all I know, this version of the Dreadroot might make you look like that troll Uther married." The elderly physician handed over the vial. "Bottoms up," he instructed. Merlin downed the potion in one.

* * *

 

Yelling at Merlin wasn't the biggest highlight of King Arthur's day, but it was definitely one of the minor ones. It relieved his stress. He acted grave and composed around his knights, dignified and patient with dignitaries, brave yet merciful at the Round Table. With Merlin he was himself. No fakeness, no filter, and that included the part of him that just wanted to yell.

He mentally practiced his speech as he marched down to Gaius' chambers. It wasn't even noon yet and already Merlin neglected half his chores. Arthur took a deep breath and kicked open the door –

-and promptly choked on his own inhale.

Merlin lay limp and still on his back on the stone floor – eyes closed, face white, lips tinted blue. Nearly a minute passed before Arthur unfroze in the doorframe. He moved as if boneless. He didn't even feel the instant bruises when he collapsed to his knees. Every muscle endured whiplash. His hands curled into fists and then into cups that fit around Merlin's cheekbones. His lips rotated between quivering and clenching tight. The sound that snuck out of his throat was both a sob and a growl. Simultaneously he wanted to smack and cradle his friend – to sit there forever and also behead the murderer immediately – to drown in both sorrow and fury. Arthur felt for Merlin's pulse, listened for Merlin's breathing and discovered that both were barely there.

Suddenly, Merlin's eyelids rose and Arthur's hopes with them. "Arthur?"

"Merlin!" Arthur pressed his cheek against his friend's forehead. "Oh, God, you're ice cold."

"Where's Gaius?" The servant's body trembled.

Arthur cupped his face. "What happened?" Merlin pointed at an empty vial sitting on Gaius' table. Arthur didn't recognize the label but knew what the skull meant: someone poisoned Merlin. Tears as large as almonds grew in Arthur's eyes. He forgot about the neglected chores. He forgot Merlin's clumsiness, tardiness, disrespect and sarcasm. Memories of Merlin foremost in Arthur's mind included any and every instance of support and loyalty, sacrifice, bravery and loving friendship. "Who?" Arthur managed to squeeze out only a couple words through his strangled throat. "I'll  _kill_  them. Who did this?"

"…it's too late, but it's all right, Arthur," Merlin whispered. "Really."

Arthur released a wet laugh. "Nothing about this is all right, Merlin." He used the soft section on the back of his hand to caress his friend's cheek. "It's not too late. It can't be."

"It's all right." Merlin slid his hand between Arthur's and his cheek and forced their fingers to intertwine. "You don't understand… Gaius can explain. I will be fine."

Arthur clasped Merlin's hand tight. "Stop saying that. You're barely breathing, Merlin."

Merlin's eyes narrowed almost with suspicion. "You'd actually mourn me if I died, wouldn't you?" he whispered at the lowest register of Arthur's hearing.

Arthur's bottom lip swelled. "Of course I would mourn you," he whispered. "You're my closest friend."

Merlin beamed. "And you're mine. Now, Arthur—"

Arthur wiped his wet cheeks. "You shouldn't speak, Merlin. Lie still. I'll find Gaius. I'll get help."

"Sire?" came a voice at the door. Gaius stood in the doorframe with his hands braced against it. "Arthur, when did you—"

"Gaius! Quick, help me, I found him like this, I think he's been poisoned." Arthur waved the physician over. "Get – Get herbs or roots or whatever the devil you use to cure these things."

Gaius looked down at Merlin over Arthur's shoulder. "Sire, I assure you he's perfectly fine. The potion is doing exactly what it's supposed to."

"Potion – what? What potion – Gaius, I can barely feel his heart beating."

"I've been trying to tell him," Merlin said to Gaius. "He's in a panic, Gaius, won't listen to reason."

"Perhaps I should just give you the antidote now," Gaius suggested.

" _Antidote_?" Arthur bellowed.

"Maybe you should before he accuses you of killing me." Merlin obediently opened his mouth and Gaius placed a drop of clear liquid on his lips. Not half a moment after he swallowed the potion, Merlin's face found its color, his lips blushed, his breathing became strong and even and the heartbeat beneath Arthur's touch morphed from pathetic nudges to strong thumps. The sorcerer sat up.

The two young men sat nose to nose. Arthur's jaw hung so low it must have unhinged like a serpent's. "Is this…?" he said with a heavy tongue, "was that a – a prank? A  _joke_?"

"What? No." Merlin shook his friend's elbow. "Arthur, I wasn't poisoned, I was paralyzed by the Dreadroot potion."

Arthur pointed at the tip of Merlin's nose. "You're not making any sense," he said. He turned and pointed at Gaius. "Your turn."

"Your Majesty, remember the pois—potion you took when Uther married that troll? You appeared to be dead. Pale, unresponsive, cold. That was the Dreadroot. Recently Merlin and I realized that it could come in handy to alter that same potion so that the user appears dead but remains conscious."

"And why weren't you here watching over him?"

"I had to go to the loo, Sire."

The king snorted. "Appears dead but remains conscious," Arthur repeated. "Merlin took that potion and he appeared dead but remained conscious."

"Correct."

"Might have to strengthen it a bit," Merlin recommended to Gaius. "I was still able to move if I really focused. Won't look very dead if I jump at loud noises."

Gaius tapped his chin. "We could try three parts Dreadroot instead of two. Three and a half, perhaps."

"Excuse me!" Arthur shouted. His face flushed fireball-red. "When in the hell would a concoction like this come in handy?"

Merlin and Gaius appeared to be each other's shadows when they both opened their mouths, froze in mid-syllable, and clamped their lips shut again. "Well…" Merlin's eyes looked at everything in the room but Arthur. "Say Morgana thought you were dead and while you were dead she revealed her entire sinister plan and you could tell us about—"

"For the love of—" Arthur bounded to his feet and stomped towards the door. "Next time, leave a bloody note on the door – I nearly had a  _heart attack_! And, Merlin, I swear if you don't have the laundry done today I'll  _poison you myself_!" Arthur slammed the door so hard that an empty vial rolled off a shelf and exploded on the floor. The sorcerer and the physician stared dumbly at each other.

"Why is he so angry?" Merlin wondered. "We didn't mean to trick him."

Gaius rolled his eyes. "He isn't angry because you accidentally tricked him, Merlin. His anger is a reaction to the primary symptoms: fear and sadness."

Merlin faced his mentor. "You're saying he's angry because he was afraid that I was dying."

"And saddened by it, yes." Gaius placed his palm in the center of Merlin's back and spread his fingers wide. "I know that you sometimes think that he sees you as nothing more than a servant. Arthur is unlikely to show his true emotions unless he's in a situation like the one we just put him in. That's just the way he is." Gaius patted Merlin's back when he saw a dose of doubt still in his face. "He cares about you. Although he didn't plan to, he just showed it."

Merlin nodded and smiled, and then sighed and frowned. "I didn't realize he cared  _that_  much."

Gaius smiled knowingly. "You mean as much as you care about him?"

Merlin answered with a nod.

**The End**


	15. Pain Beyond All Imagining

Morgana was so thrilled that you could read by the sparkles of happiness in her eyes. It was a victorious smile. A smug smile. She sat on the throne of Camelot – on Arthur's throne – with Merlin and the king captured and kneeling before her. Seven guards pointed seven swords at their backs. Helios stood beside the sorceress with his chin angled up and his lips curled tight. "I'll dispatch the servant right away, my Lady." Helios unsheathed a dagger and put the blade to Merlin's throat.

"No!" both Arthur and Morgana said – one out of fear, the other out of sick amusement. "Merlin here is an old friend." Morgana stepped down to Merlin and snatched up his chin between her thumb and forefinger. "I don't want him to miss such an entertaining show. He and Arthur are like brothers. Merlin's punishment will be to watch his brother die."

"If you harm him I'll—" Morgana smacked Merlin in the jaw before he could finish his sentence.

" _Stop it_!" Arthur barked. Four swords promptly improved his posture when they pushed harder against his spine.

Morgana laughed. "You aren't the one giving orders anymore, brother." She kicked Merlin in the stomach and knocked the wind out of him. Merlin coughed and rolled onto his side. "This is my throne now. My crown. My kingdom."

"My people will never bow to your rule, Morgana." Arthur eyed her closely as she walked around the back of the throne and reemerged with an ornate box built from the wood of a yew tree. "Killing me now will only fuel their determination."

Morgana pretended not to hear. "I've pictured this moment a thousand times," she said in a dreamy voice. "I planned to kill you instantly. To cut your throat. To look deep into your eyes and watch you succumb to death." She licked her lips, raised the bow to her face and opened it as if it was a long-awaited gift. "It's funny, Arthur, but now that we're here, now that I see you, I don't want to kill you…  _yet_." Morgana plucked out the small black snake and smiled at it.

"No," Merlin whispered from the floor. Helios gave him another kick to keep him quiet.

Morgana slithered back to Arthur. "I want you to remember a time when you experienced the worst pain you'd ever imagined." Arthur stared straight ahead and clamped his jaw shut. "Hold that memory in your mind, brother. I want you to realize that was a silk pillow compared to what this Nathair will do to you."

"I can endure torture, Morgana," the king said. "I can endure pain."

"Like this?" Morgana kicked him on his left side and Arthur doubled over from the agony that was his broken ribs. "Arthur, I am going to enjoy watching my pet treat you to the limit of human endurance. And then we'll do this again tomorrow, and the next day. And maybe,  _maybe_  if you beg me, then I'll slash your throat. When my blade pierces your skin you'll be thanking me for my mercy with your last breath." She stood behind him and touched the back of his neck with the back of her pinky.

"Arthur!" Merlin gasped beneath Helios' boot. His friend looked at him and Merlin saw his expression shift from bravery to fear to submission in less than a second. Arthur landed on a sad smile. He was still looking into Merlin's eyes when Morgana stabbed the Nathair into his body.

Merlin remembered every quarter-moment of the time Morgana implanted a Fomorroh in him. He became nothing more than the witch's puppet. So intense was the pain that he passed out in seconds. It truly was an experience he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy. Now, as he watched Morgana impale his best friend with a Nathair, he realized his painful experience was, as Morgana would say, a silk pillow in comparison. Inflicting unbearable agony was this serpent's one and only purpose. And it wouldn't let its victim pass out. No, it dangled Arthur's mind and body over the brink of insanity, the brink of consciousness, the brink of what the physical human heart can endure without dying. And it made him watch.

Arthur made no sound, at first. Merlin could tell that he was determined to stay silent, as if that would prove something. His jaw dropped and his head jerked when the creature wrapped itself around his brain and spine. His eyes widened so far that the skin in the corners of his eyelids cracked and bled. Arthur looked shocked more than anything. As a warrior he was prepared to tolerate pain, and Merlin knew he'd suffered more than his fair share. But this torture hurt worse than words could describe. This hurt literally like Hell.

Arthur screamed so loud that Morgana and the guards stepped away from him and plugged their ears. Merlin tried to crawl to his friend but Helios pinned him to the floor. Arthur's body convulsed. He clawed at his clothes, at his head, neck and back. After landing face down on the floor, he smacked his head repeatedly against the stone. Blood and sweat splattered. Morgana began to laugh. Merlin could tell by the way her stomach muscles flexed that it was a loud cackle yet he couldn't hear it over Arthur. Merlin buried his face in his arms and sobbed.

The torture continued for so long that the sudden silence echoed deafeningly in Merlin's ears. Arthur lay on his side in a fetal position. He'd ripped off his chainmail and his own fingernails slashed through his tunic. It was perfectly warm in the room but he shivered as if covered in ice. " ** _Arthur_**?" Merlin whispered. The king stared at nothing. His eyes didn't blink, his pupils didn't dilate.

"Enough for today," Morgana announced. She strolled over to Arthur and plucked the snake out of his body. "Five more minutes and you'd lose yourself, brother. I don't want you to go insane. I want you fully aware of what's happening to you." Arthur's only response was a violent shudder. Morgana grinned and gestured to the guards. "Put them both in a cell and bring me Gwaine. I think it's time for some entertainment."

Merlin was a giant clenched fist. If his glare could kill, the whole castle would explode. He barely noticed Helios leading him out of the throne room. He barely noticed the guards dragging Arthur's limp body. The whole trip down to the dungeons seemed to go in slow motion. Merlin felt like the Fomorroh shrunk his world to one thought again: kill Morgana, kill Morgana, kill that bitch of a witch who hurt his brave, noble king. Curse every hair on her head. Curse every drop of blood in her veins.

The guards tossed the boys into the dark cell as if they were no more precious than a dead mule. Arthur lay flat on his back with his eyes fixed on the ceiling. The snake left a bruise across the back of the king's neck from one earlobe to the other. Blood meandered down the side of his cheek like red tears. The fist that was Merlin unclenched. Sorrow replaced anger. He arranged Arthur so that his head, neck and shoulders lay cushioned in his lap. "Arthur?" Merlin whispered. "You're all right, now." Arthur did nothing but breathe and blink. His face was as neutral as a sleeping baby's. Merlin placed the pad of his thumb on the corner of Arthur's mouth. He stroked his friend's bottom lip with his gentlest touch. "Please say something," Merlin begged. "Anything. Just speak to me."

Nothing. Blank face. Arthur might just as well been frozen in ice.

Merlin smoothed his eyebrow down. He combed stray blond hairs to the left or right. He remembered Uther sitting still and silent, staring, lifeless, out of his window for hours on end. Morgana broke his heart, and now she'd broken Arthur's. "No," Merlin told himself. "Not broken… Not broken." He searched desperately for the right words as if he needed them for a complicated spell. What could he say to snap Arthur out of whatever fog of numbness his mind trapped him in? What could he do? Merlin suppressed a sob. It sunk deep into his body, pulling him downward. He cupped Arthur's cheek with his hand and rested his own cheek on his friend's chest, his mouth two inches from Arthur's chin.

Merlin closed his eyes. Closed his eyes and wondered what he could say that would really get Arthur's attention.

"I need you," Merlin whispered. He rubbed Arthur's cheek. "Arthur,  _I need you_."

A minute passed. Ten more passed. Exhaustion nudged Merlin toward sleep but he fought it. And then, when he was least expecting it, Merlin felt Arthur slide his arm around his shoulders and squeeze. He had the voice of a man just recovering from laryngitis. "I'm here," Arthur whispered. "Merlin, I'm here."

After Merlin helped him sit up against the wall, gather his bearings and remember what had happened and what needed to next, Arthur stated the obvious: "We must escape, get to safety and regroup with the survivors."

Merlin knew exactly how. When he was certain that Arthur was asleep, he raised his hands and blew the cell doors right off their hinges.

**The End**


	16. How to Torture a King

In Ealdor, Merlin wasn't a servant, target practice or a physician's assistant. He wasn't a dragonlord. He wasn't a secret sorcerer charged with the destiny of an entire kingdom. He was just his mother's son.

A week with Hunith was just what he needed. Merlin worked in her garden, helped her build a fence, enjoyed her food and reminisced about his childhood. In the evenings she sang old lullabies and he used his magic to entertain her with dancing creatures out of the fire. Merlin barely gave Camelot a second thought. Arthur would be fine without him for a week.

Or so he thought.

Merlin knew something was wrong the moment he entered the castle. Twice as many knights guarded the halls. Servants spoke only in hushed voices. Camelot-red curtains covered every window and no one smiled. He was halfway to Gaius' chambers when a scream echoed through the castle. A scream that he recognized. " _Arthur_!" Merlin dropped his rucksack and sprinted upstairs. Gwaine and Leon intercepted him right before he reached Arthur's chambers. "What are you doing?" Merlin bellowed. He tried to fight them off but stood no chance against their strength. "Let me go! Arthur's in trouble!" Arthur shrieked again with such intensity that Merlin thought he saw the doorknobs vibrate.

"Merlin, calm down!" Gwaine ordered.

Leon pinned his arms behind his back. "There's nothing you can do!"

" ** _Arthur_**!" Merlin cried.

The third yell was an arrow through his heart because it wasn't an incoherent scream, but a name: " ** _Merlin_**!"

The doors opened and Gaius and Guinevere emerged, disheveled and out of breath. The physician looked five years older and the queen looked ten. The half-moons beneath Gwen's eyes matched the color of her dark hair. She jumped into Merlin's arms and nearly choked him with a hug. "Oh, Merlin, thank goodness you're home. Arthur keeps asking for you."

"What's going on?" Merlin demanded of Gaius. "What's wrong with Arthur?"

"He's gone mad, Merlin." Gwen stepped back and gripped his shoulders. "Completely insane. He thinks that everyone is a sorcerer out to kill him. He won't eat, he won't sleep, he won't leave his room, and he's talking to his dead parents…" Gwen swayed slightly and Merlin put his hands on her waist.

"Gwaine, Leon, please escort the queen downstairs," said Gaius. He took Gwen by the elbow and led her away from Merlin. "See that she eats something and gets some rest."

"Of course." Leon put his hand behind her shoulders to steady her. "Come, my Lady." Gwen didn't put up a fight.

As soon as they were out of sight, Merlin exclaimed, "I've been gone a week – no – six and a half days, Gaius, and I come back to find Arthur's a lunatic?"

The physician wringed his hands. "It's a mandrake root, Merlin. It has to be."

"So find it and burn it! You checked under his bed?"

"Of course! I've been over every speck of dust in his chambers, twice. I even ripped up his pillows and sawed through his bedposts. I can't find it anywhere!"

"Then it must be somewhere else he frequents. The throne room? The Round Table?"

"I've had the knights look for anything suspicious, twice."

"The stables – the armory!"

"No and no."

Merlin ran his fingers through his hair so hard and fast that he accidentally clapped his hands at the crown of his head. "I shouldn't have left him."

"Don't blame yourself. Besides, he gets in as much trouble around you. Perhaps more."

Merlin resisted the temptation to kick his mentor. "So what do we do?"

Gaius gestured to the door. "You're going to speak to him. Find out if he's seen or touched anything resembling a mandrake. We have to find it before he loses his mind permanently."

"Why me? Gwen—"

"You're the only one he's asked for." Gaius cupped Merlin's sharp cheekbone in his calloused hand. "Anyone else who gets near him gets screamed at and smacked by a boot."

Merlin felt like he was struggling to stay on a bucking horse. "What… Why me?"

Gaius raised his other hand to join the first. "You know why." He smiled sadly. "There are some bonds even dark magic can't break. Now go. Find out where the mandrake is, Merlin."

Merlin stepped warily towards the door and peeked inside. A single lit candle revealed the disaster. Arthur upended the table and tried to barricade the door with chairs. Broken vases replaced the wood in the fireplace. Books and plucked quills lay scattered amongst broken ink vials, bent silverware, shredded blankets and neglected meals. Merlin spotted a clump of blond hair in the corner beyond their bed. Arthur had built himself a nest in his bathtub.

"Arthur?"

Arthur popped up and heaved a cup and a dirty sock at him. "Leave me alone!" he yelled. He retreated into the bathtub immediately.

Merlin raised his hands in an "I Surrender" gesture. "Arthur, it's me."

An apple core catapulted across the room. "Sorcerers! Traitors!" He gasped and his voice became fragile. "Don't hurt me – Don't kill me, please…"

"Arthur, it's me, Merlin!"

Silence, then, "Prove it!"

" _It's me, dollop-head_!"

Silence, then Arthur jumped to his feet. "Get in here, quick, before they kill you!" Merlin hurried over. The moment he was within range Arthur grabbed his wrist and yanked him into the bathtub. The two boys folded their legs beneath them and sat across from each other, knee-to-knee. Arthur sobbed. He wrapped his arms around Merlin's waist and buried his face in his lap. Not knowing what to say, Merlin just stayed still and gently combed the king's hair with his fingers.

And then, out of the blue, Arthur reared up and punched Merlin right in the jaw. "Don't you ever abandon me again!"

Merlin yelped and massaged his mouth. Before he could respond, Arthur took out a dagger.

He stood and threw it at some unseen enemy, succeeding only in ripping up the bed curtains. "Stay away from us!" he bellowed. Merlin yanked him back into the tub.

"Arthur, look at me!" The servant grabbed the king's chin and shook it until he made eye contact. "Calm down! I need to talk to you."

"You're going to abandon me again, aren't you," said Arthur. "Everybody leaves me. They die, they betray me…"

"I didn't abandon you. I just went to visit my mother, remember?"

"My mother is visiting me." Arthur squinted at the fireplace. "She's over there. Just there. She says it's my fault she's dead…"

"There's no one there."

"Lancelot's here. And my father. I see Morgana… I feel her hands around my throat."

"Arthur."

"My father keeps telling me to kill myself…"

"Enough of that," said Merlin, and he returned Arthur's punch. The king's mouth was open at the time and Merlin busted his knuckles open on Arthur's bottom teeth.

"Ow!" Arthur roared. "Ow, Merlin, what the hell – when did you get back from Ealdor?" His eyes dilated to a normal size and he shook his head as if to clear away cobwebs. "Um, Merlin, why are we in a bathtub?"

Merlin gripped his sleeves. "Arthur? You with me?" Arthur nodded. He looked at Merlin for twice as long as he had so far. "All right, come on." He guided Arthur to his feet, out of the tub and over to the bed. They sat down side by side and Merlin rubbed his bleeding fingers on his trousers.

"What the hell happened here?" Arthur asked. Blue eyes darted from the beheaded bedposts to the twisted forks to the piles of glass. "Merlin, were we attacked by wyverns?"

"Arthur, tell me everything that happened while I was gone." Merlin kept his grip on Arthur's arm and followed his eyes everywhere they went. "I need to know if you met anyone new, if you went anywhere different."

Arthur massaged his temples. "What? No. Why?"

"Arthur you've been enchanted. We have to find the source before we lose you."

"Enchanted by what?" he asked. Merlin explained what the mandrake root looked like. Arthur thought about it for a long moment, and then shook his head. "Merlin, I've never seen anything like that. When are you going to clean up this room?"

"Arthur, remember when your father was hallucinating about the children he drowned? The same thing is happening to you. Think – think! Did anything,  _anything_  strange happen this week?"

"My father…" Arthur put his face in his hands and for a moment Merlin thought he'd lost himself again. "Merlin, there was this wine…"

"Wine?"

"A bottle. An old one. I found it on Sunday in my father's chambers. He put a note on it – something about how he planned to drink it on my wedding night. He never got… He died before he…" Arthur hugged himself and pressed his nose against his knee.

"Arthur, did you drink it? How much?"

"All," he whispered. "All of it, Merlin. It… It tasted so odd…"

"Arthur, I need you to stay right here, all right?" Merlin patted him on the back and then moved towards the door. "I'll be right back. Just wait for me there." Merlin dashed outside and found Gaius waiting on a wooden bench.

"What did you find out?" Gaius asked.

Merlin knelt in front of him. "He's coherent right now but not for long. He says he drank a strange wine that he found in his father's room. Have you ever heard of a drink made from a mandrake root?"

"No, but I'm sure that's not impossible." Gaius' wrinkles doubled in concentration. "Grind it up and add it to the fermented fruit. I don't doubt that Morgana would have had a backup plan in case someone discovered the mandrake under Uther's bed… Where is the potion now?"

"He drank it all five days ago. But we just have to get him to vomit, right? Get the potion out of his stomach?"

"Merlin that isn't how the human body operates. It wouldn't be in his stomach anymore but in his blood. Which means—"

Merlin sighed and hung his head. "He won't let us near him with leeches, Gaius."

The physician stood up. "Then you must either convince him or hold him down." Gaius scurried downstairs and Merlin returned to the room.

"Arthur?"

King Arthur stood in the center of the room holding a knife to his own throat.

Merlin had seen a lot of scary things in his time: dragons, griffins, wyverns, lamias, shape shifters, ghosts… Nothing frightened him like this. His first instinct was the same one he had whenever anything threatened his friend: defeat said threat. But this time it was Arthur threatening Arthur. Arthur's Bane, indeed. So little space existed between the weapon and Arthur's throat that Merlin didn't trust his magic to yank the knife away without causing harm. His second instinct was the same as well. If he couldn't defeat the threat, he sacrificed himself so that Arthur wouldn't get hurt. But there was no room for his throat. His third instinct was to look around for someone else's help – Gaius, Leon, Gwaine, etc., but Merlin was alone. All alone.

Merlin acted on a new instinct. He knelt on the floor and cupped his hands in his lap.

"I want peace!" Arthur said to whatever entity stood between him and Merlin. "Peace for my kingdom, peace for myself! If you swear this is the only way to achieve that, I will do it." Merlin only heard one side of the conversation and could only discern what the other side said based on Arthur's reactions. His expression shifted from pleading to resignation. "You're right. You're right, I do want  _that_  more than anything. More than anything I want your respect. Is that what I'll get if I do this?"

"That isn't your father, Arthur," said Merlin.

Arthur started. He hadn't noticed Merlin's return.

"You're being manipulated by dark magic. He's not real."

"If I don't kill myself, he'll kill me, Merlin."

"He can't touch you. He can't hurt you. Arthur, he's not real!"

"He says you're not real!"

Desperation made Merlin's eyes water. "Trust me. Have faith in me, Arthur. Nothing will happen if you put that knife down. I swear you won't die."

Arthur put his claim to the test. He lowered the knife an inch, then six inches. Though his eyes never strayed from Uther's invisible face, his shoulders visibly relaxed. When the knife landed on the floor, Merlin released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Gaius burst in, then, water sloshing out of his leech tank and down Merlin's shirt. Merlin yelped and leapt to his feet. When he turned back to Arthur he saw the king tug on his shirt collar. Arthur's eyes widened. His cheeks blushed. Ripping the collar helped nothing. The strangled sound he made caused Merlin's own throat to close.

"His fingers are so cold," Arthur whispered. He reached for Merlin and pitched forward.

" _Gaius_!" Merlin maneuvered his shoulder beneath Arthur's chin and hugged him around his waist.

"Can't breathe—" Arthur gasped. He tried to say something more but not even breath escaped his frantic lips.

Merlin's knees folded to the stone floor. His left hand pushed Arthur's cheek against his shoulder while his right hand pulled the collar down, ripping his shirt further. "Not the arm!" Gaius instructed. "We don't have time for that." The physician pressed two fingers against Arthur's neck, located the pulse and stabbed a leech into the jugular. The creature swelled with blood so quickly that Merlin's stomach rocked.

"If you take too much blood he'll die!"

"If we don't take enough he'll die!" Gaius replaced the full leech with an empty one.

Fingers clawed at Merlin's neck and then wrapped around his shirt. Merlin looked into Arthur's eyes and saw the panic, the desperation. He knew what Arthur would say if he could: the knife would've been quicker and not as painful. Gaius replaced another leech, and another. He switched to two at a time – Arthur's body shuddered when a pair of teeth clamped to his throat. Merlin cupped the side of his face to keep him from seeing the creatures.

"Two more leeches, Merlin," Gaius said through strained inhales. "That's all I can risk. Is the enchantment wearing off?"

Merlin's lips resembled a straight line – then a rippling ocean wave – then a straight line once more. Arthur's eyes unfocused. There was no way to tell if it was because of the magic or the blood loss. "He's fading," Merlin whispered. "Gaius, I'm losing him."

A slurping sound accompanied the last leech when Gaius plucked it from Arthur's neck. He wrapped a bandage around that was wider than Arthur's cheeks. Gaius sat back on his haunches and wiped his sweaty brow. "Merlin – look!"

So focused on Arthur's eyes was Merlin that it took him a moment to notice that the blue face was changing back to red. The king looked as surprised as the sorcerer. Short bursts of air inflated Arthur's starved lungs. For the first time he not only looked at Merlin but  _saw_  him, and him only. "Merlin?" he gasped.

"Oh thank goodness," said Gaius.

Resisting the tears made Merlin's nose twitch. "Thought I lost you."

"Do you still see your father?" Gaius asked.

"Only see this ugly face," Arthur said, followed by a nod at Merlin. "That was  _really_  bad wine."

"Think you can stand?"

"I got him." Merlin held Arthur close and slowly stood. Gaius set the bandages in Arthur's lap and then left with the leech tank. Merlin set Arthur down on what was left of the bed and retrieved rogue blankets and pillows.

"Strange… I remember everything."

Merlin got to work replacing the bandages around Arthur's throat. He sprinkled healing magic into the wounds to stop the bleeding.

"All the people I've killed – in battle, in tournaments… All the people who have died because of decisions I've made… They were all here, Merlin. It was so… crowded."

Merlin froze at the tone of Arthur's voice. He swallowed and said, "You should rest, Arthur. You lost a lot of blood."

Arthur blinked at him. "There were so many that the children had to sit on their parents' shoulders." Arthur's throat sounded dust dry. A tear peeked out of the corner of his eye and glistened in the dim candlelight. "It was torture, Merlin. Pure torture."

Merlin sniffed and tied off the last bandage.

"And I don't know why, but you were the only person I thought could save me. I needed you."

"Maybe you thought my ugly face would scare them off."

Arthur chuckled. "I'm glad you're back. How was Ealdor?"

"It was nice. Lovely. Pleasant. I'm never going back." Arthur used his eyebrow to ask "why?" Merlin shrugged. "You need me."

"I don't need anyone," Arthur remarked. They both knew it was out of habit, not out of truth. Arthur sighed. "The next time you want to go to Ealdor, we'll go together."

The corner of Merlin's lip curled. "And the next time you find wine, we'll share it."

** The End **


	17. Hold Me

Daegal spotted the red cape before anything. His own was forest green, helpful for hiding in the woods but not for flagging down a rider. He waved it anyway. The man on the horse approached him warily. He gripped his sword but didn't draw it. "Who are you?" he demanded with the most confident voice the young boy had ever heard.

"My name is Daegal, Sir Knight." Daegal bowed his head. "Please, I need help."

The man's bright blue eyes drifted towards the setting sun. "I'm afraid I'm on my way to help someone else and then I need to hurry back to sign a treaty. Camelot is not far. Tell the knights that Arthur sent you. They'll help anyway they can."

"Arthur?" Daegal gasped. "Not — not  _King_  Arthur?"

"I'm looking for my servant. I mean, my friend." Arthur inched his horse closer to the boy. "Gangly lad, large head, black hair, ears like wings, wears a neckerchief and has an unnatural ability to get into trouble. Haven't seen him, have you?"

Daegal almost lied. Lying had come so easy for him lately. But he'd flagged down King Arthur for a reason. "Merlin?" Daegal said in a voice so meek that he barely heard himself talk.

Arthur dismounted so fast Daegal felt the ground shake when he landed. He blinked and a dagger appeared at his throat. " _Where is he_?" Arthur's eyes were made of the same metal as his sword.

"I – I'll show you," Daegal stuttered. "He's hurt. Poisoned. I was on my way to Camelot to get help."

"What the hell happened?" Arthur yelled. Immediately he shook his head. "Never mind. Later. Where is he?"

"In the valley."

"The Valley of the Fallen Kings?"

"Yes."

Arthur sighed. "Of course."

Merlin smiled at the clouds, and they waved back. He felt like a boy again. A carefree ten-year-old finding shapes in the sky. It wasn't such a bad way to die, lying in the forest while his insides burned. He watched a fish become a dragon that split into two birds. Swallows. A sphere hung on a string between them - a cantaloupe, perhaps, but rougher. There was a cloud shaped like a boot, and even one that looked like Arthur. The Arthur-shaped cloud's lips moved. It spoke his name, touched his shoulder. It was red and blue and silver and – Merlin's lungs filled with red-hot needles and he blinked for the first time in an eternity.

" _Merlin_ ," King Arthur gasped. He wiped his sweaty face with a gloved hand and took a deep breath. "Oh, you weren't breathing!"

"Arthur?" Merlin whispered. It felt like a dozen Percivals pounded two-dozen fists on his chest. He felt like thousands of chains pulled his body in a thousand different directions. He felt the black poison pumping through his blood. Somehow it was so unbearably painful that Merlin felt… nothing. The Nothing you feel at that tipping point between consciousness and sleep. "I'm dreaming."

"You're not dreaming." Arthur disappeared from view for a moment. When he returned he wiped the sweat, spit and foam away from Merlin's mouth so delicately and thoroughly that he might have been polishing a solid silver statue.

Merlin marveled at the sensation of human touch. He couldn't be dead or dreaming because everything felt so very significant – as if he were experiencing all five senses for the first time. "You're here."

"I'm here." Arthur examined the wounds on Merlin's leg and forehead.

"How did you find me?"

"This kid." A face peered over Arthur's shoulder.

Daegal would've lost his head instantly if Merlin had the strength. " _Get away from him_!" Merlin shouted at Daegal before he said to Arthur, "He can't be trusted. He took me here. A trap – Morgana poisoned me. Arthur, run!"

Arthur leapt to his feet and placed his body protectively between Merlin and Daegal. "You did this?"

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone!" Daegal cowered before the king, his arms over his head, his face near the ground. "I made a foolish mistake and intended to fix it. I was on my way to Camelot to get help for Merlin and to warn you about Morgana!"

"What about her?"

"She intends to kill you."

Arthur shrugged. "And?" The "tell me something I don't know!" went unsaid.

Daegal risked glancing up. "That's all I know. I swear, that's all I know!"

Arthur raised his fists. He halted in mid-swing when Merlin said his name. "Leave him be," Merlin murmured. "He's just a desperate boy. Easy prey for Morgana."

The sun nearing the horizon cast bolts of light past Arthur's back, making him look like a wrathful god. "Leave my sight," he growled. Daegal shrunk away. He started to run but suddenly, Arthur called him back. "If you want forgiveness," said the king, "find us some medicinal herbs." Merlin gave him a list. Daegal swore to help, and swore again after Arthur's parting words: "If he dies, Daegal, I'll have you hanged."

"It's too late," Merlin said when Daegal was out of earshot. "Those herbs won't save me, Arthur. Nothing will."

The king ignored that. "Once you get some medicine will you be able to ride?"

"Doubtful. It's too late, Arthur."

"Shut up, Merlin." Arthur helped him drink some water. "Talk about something else."

Merlin swallowed air through his constricted throat. "How did the treaty signing go?"

"Hasn't happened yet."

"Hasn't…" Merlin squinted. His foggy brain worked at half speed. "You left Camelot during a treaty negotiation?"

"It was boring. George-boring." Arthur ripped his red cape in half and tore it into bandages.

"Arthur, you should get back."

"Sure, Merlin. I'll just leave you here to die. Gaius will understand. Guinevere, too."

"Arthur, I'm already dead, my heart just hasn't stopped beating yet." Merlin winced when Arthur poured water over his leg wound.

"That makes no sense." Arthur wiped away the dry blood and soaked up the new blood. He applied the bandages – too tight, at first – and tied them off. The wineskin only held a few more drops. While Merlin drank the rest of the water, Arthur brushed his black bangs away from his sweaty forehead. He left his thumb there for a few minutes while Merlin struggled to breathe. The thumb pad followed the hairline from Merlin's temple to the center of his forehead – back and forth, back and forth. Arthur wasn't sure but it seemed to calm Merlin down a bit. When there was nothing to do but wait for Daegal, Arthur plopped down onto the ground beside his friend. "What do you need?"

"Nothing." Merlin's voice was softer than before. "Just… watch the clouds with me? Look - there are bears juggling sausages."

Arthur frowned. "Whatever do you mean?"

Merlin pointed at the sky with one finger. "The clouds. Their shapes. Haven't you ever watched the clouds?"

Arthur didn't disguise his intrigue. "I suppose I never noticed." He lay down beside Merlin and mirrored his position. Treetops blocked his way and he scooted closer – shoulder-to-shoulder, ear to ear – so that he could look through a gap in the branches. "I don't see bears juggling sausages. I see midgets flipping flapjacks."

"Everyone sees something different. That's part of the fun."

"I'm the king, Merlin. I order you to see midgets and flapjacks." They shared a laugh, a long rolling one that briefly brightened Merlin's eyes. But then the sun retreated and a purple twilight darkened the edges of the clouds. They blushed pink, then bruised blue and became nothing but hovering shadows.

Merlin stayed quiet for several moments. So many moments that Arthur anxiously watched every rise and fall of his chest. "Will you tell my mother I'm sorry?"

Arthur turned so that his chin was on Merlin's shoulder. "Sorry?"

"Sorry she has to bury me." A tear glided off Merlin's cheek and splashed Arthur's nose. "Send my love as well. Tell her that my final thoughts were of her."

"Merlin—"

Daegal trampled through the woods. "I found them!" He handed the tincture to Arthur and then, without so much as a goodbye, disappeared.

"Good riddance," Arthur muttered. He slid his hand behind Merlin's head and lifted it. It took several sips, but Merlin finished it all. "You know," Arthur said as he drank, "Guinevere said that you were out with a girl. I, of course, knew it was far more likely you were dying in the woods."

Merlin opened his mouth to speak but then sighed and licked his lips. "That's odd," he said after a minute of thought. "I never mentioned a girl. I wonder why she said that."

Arthur shrugged. "She must have misunderstood something you said."

"I don't think… Arthur? Do you smell that?" Merlin's nose crinkled. "Smells like something's burning." His eyes twitched. "Something's coming," Merlin whispered. Small spasms attacked his legs, his hips and his elbows.

Arthur pinned his shoulders down. "Merlin!" Merlin's eyes fixed on Arthur's. They were as round as the moon. Pain filled them to the brim with water. He looked scared. So scared.

"Take my hand," Merlin begged.

Arthur obeyed. He held his friend's knuckles against his cheek. The skin felt hot. "Shhh," was all he could think to say.

Merlin's limbs convulsed. Every muscle in his body vibrated slowly at first, then sped up and out of his control. "What's happening to me?" he whispered.

Arthur would trade his kingdom for an answer. Panic wrapped around his heart like a serpent. "Tell me what to do!"

"Hold me. P - Please hold me," Merlin pleaded. Arthur cradled Merlin in his arms and laid his cheek on his forehead. " _Arthur_ …" Merlin wheezed, "Hold me, Arthur,  _I can't feel you_."

"I'm here, I'm right here." Arthur hugged every inch of Merlin he could. Merlin tried to speak but his lips had a mind of their own. His eyes suddenly rolled back into his skull and his body behaved as if struck by lightning. With every twitch, convulsion, and shudder Merlin endured, Arthur held him closer. "Be all right," Arthur prayed against his neck. "Be all right, be all right…"

A final seizure, a long exhale, and Merlin went limp. Arthur didn't inhale until he was sure Merlin still breathed. He didn't expect Merlin's eyes to be open, and he didn't panic when they weren't. Arthur made one attempt to rouse him by tapping his cheek. No response. The servant was unconscious. Unconscious and peaceful.

Aftershocks hit Merlin every few minutes, but he stayed unconscious even when Arthur hoisted him onto the horse. Arthur rode right into the citadel and carried Merlin straight to Gaius.

Two days later, Merlin found Arthur lying on his back on a hill just outside the castle. He lay down beside him and stared up at the same white clouds. "What do you see?"

"A servant who should be giving my horse a bath."

"I mean in the clouds."

"That  _is_  what I see in the clouds." Arthur held a straight face for only a moment more. He grinned at Merlin, then punched him lightly on the arm.

"I can't believe you never did this as a kid," Merlin said as he watched a swan spread its wings.

Arthur shrugged. "I was busy training, being a prince. My father would consider this a waste of time. It's odd but I find this kind of… therapeutic."

The two men enjoyed a companionable quiet until Merlin said, "I'm sorry the treaty didn't work out. I heard they left when you rode off to find me."

Arthur shrugged again. "We'll have another opportunity. There's plenty of time to sign papers. There wasn't much time to help you."

"Thank you, Arthur," Merlin said. "I mean it. I suppose sometimes you're not a complete prat."

"And sometimes you're more than a servant. Not much more but… More."

Arthur saw secrets in Merlin's smile, but said nothing.

**The End**


	18. Undercover

In a shallow valley two leagues north of the White Mountains, a wooden cart stopped beside a pair of crisscrossing streams. Five men in black and brown clothes with torn boots and muddy hair sat tied up and caged in the back. The two up front, Elyan and Leon, climbed down when another party emerged from the woods. Six horses pulled four large men and a caged cart empty except for a slim young boy apparently asleep in the back. It was later in the morning, not quite noon. Autumn would blend with winter in less than a week.

Behind Leon, Gwaine watched the newcomers through iron bars. "This is a terrible idea," he said.

"This was  _your_  idea," said Merlin beside him.

"I have terrible ideas."

"Shut up," Arthur hissed from the opposite corner of the carriage. "And, Percival, we're supposed to be tired, overworked slaves. Try to look… frailer."

Percival shared a look with Lancelot. "That would be like asking Merlin to look stronger, my Lord," Lancelot joked with a straight face.

"Or Gwaine to be quiet," said Percival.

"Or Leon to be short," said Merlin.

"Or Elyan to be handsome," Leon whispered from outside the bars, his voice only carrying so far.

Elyan ignored the jab. "Are you sure about this, Arthur?" he asked as the four slave traders approached carrying swords and chains. "There's no guarantee you'll be able to escape."

"Too many of my people have been abducted by these slave traders for me to ignore such a threat," Arthur said in his gravest voice. "The best way to stop them is to find their headquarters. Elyan, Leon, we'll meet you back here in three days. If we don't show up, rally the other knights and come after us."

"Last chance to check your clothes, boys," said Gwaine. "No 'Camelot red' today."

Merlin glanced back at the king and looked him up and down. "Arthur, your ring."

Arthur held up his right forefinger. "Plain silver. No markings. I'd feel naked without it."

"Here they come," said Lancelot. The knights inside the carriage ducked their faces while the ones outside stuck out their chests and tried to look as un-noble as possible.

The transaction was seamless. Leon and Elyan acted their roles perfectly. The slave traders paid thirty gold coins for Percival, twenty for Lancelot, Gwaine and Arthur, and five for Merlin. Merlin had no doubt that when the others got the chance, they'd tease him mercilessly. The traders searched the men, shoved them into their wagon beside the sleeping boy and chained their wrists behind them. And then – before they climbed into their seats – they gave each man a drink of water. Elyan and Leon turned their carriage around and headed back the way they came.

"Rather polite for criminals, don't you think?" Merlin whispered after he drank. Gwaine shrugged, then yawned.

Arthur spoke when the squeaking wooden wheels blocked his voice from the slave traders. "Everyone pay close attention to where we're going. Memorize every landmark. After we escape and return with reinforcements we'll have to remember exactly where to go."

"They didn't find my knife when they frisked me," said Percival.

"Didn't even bother with my pockets," said Merlin. He shared a knowing look with Arthur, who heaved a sigh of relief. Suddenly, Gwaine slumped over. Merlin poked him with his toe and the knight began to snore. "The water!" Merlin gasped.

"He drank it first," Arthur realized. "And then—"

Percival went next, and then Lancelot fell asleep.

"It was poisoned," Merlin said. He pulled uselessly against his bonds. "If we fall asleep we won't know where they're taking… taking…"

They fell like dominoes: Arthur onto Merlin's knee, Merlin onto Gwaine's. Unconscious, all of them.

The boy in the corner opened his eyes, tossed off his chains and grinned.

\----------

Arthur woke up in a narrow, dimly lit stone room hanging from the ceiling by his wrists. The drugs in his body lingered and it took him several minutes to remember what happened. He looked around for Merlin but neither his servant nor his knights were there. A slave trader stood up from a wooden chair, walked up to Arthur and punched him so hard in the stomach that he nearly folded in half.

"Who are you?" the man demanded. The combination of his bad breath and furious body odor woke Arthur up like a smelling salt. His raven hair was so dark it looked almost purple.

Arthur struggled to remember his cover story. "I was taken from my home in Ealdor. I overheard the kidnappers talking about selling me to work in a silver mine."

The slave trader grinned with his three teeth. "If you won't tell me who you really are I'll have to ask your friends."

Arthur instinctively tugged on the chains around his wrists. "What friends? The men in the same wagon? I never met them before today."

Another punch in the stomach. While Arthur struggled to catch his breath, the trader ripped his silver ring off his finger, taking a layer or two of skin with it. He held it up to Arthur's nose and said, "So if I show this to those men, and tell them I beheaded you, they won't give a damn?"

Arthur's nostrils flared but he said nothing.

"Very well." The man grinned and left the room.

\----------

For a moment, Merlin thought he was in Camelot's kitchen. He smelled onions and cranberries, baking bread and melting cheese, fresh herbs and steaming chicken broth. But he wasn't in the castle. He was in a cave. The White Mountains, he figured. As he looked around he realized, then, that the slave traders didn't just buy men to swing hammers and dig with shovels. They bought women to do their cooking, children to run errands, and weaker, skinny fellows like Merlin to do chores like laundry.

Not unlike being a king's servant, Merlin thought to himself.

He woke up in a small cell in a large underground chamber. To the right a dozen brutes used whips and chains to shepherd men past a long table of food. Clearly the slaves had just returned from work – what they were searching for in the mountains he couldn't be sure. Their faces and boots (those that wore shoes) were filthy and most of them seemed half-asleep. Slim, unsmiling women ladled a small spoonful of mush into their bowls and added a quarter loaf of bread. While the men ate morsels, traders sat at another table eating meat and fruit. Young girls poured them wine while little boys shined their boots. Merlin used the thick iron bars of the cell to pull himself to his feet.

"Merlin."

Merlin whirled around. Gwaine sat against the back stone wall of the cell. He had a black eye and held his left elbow tight against his stomach. Lancelot lay spread-eagled beside him, still unconscious. The boy from the carriage sat cross-legged in the corner, watching them all with wide eyes. Merlin knelt in front of Gwaine and grasped his shoulder. "This isn't exactly going according to plan, is it?"

Gwaine sniggered. "Does it ever?"

"Come to think of it, no." Merlin checked on Lancelot to make sure he was all right. "What happened to you? Where are Arthur and Percival?"

"I woke up right when they were unloading us from the cart. They took Arthur away – I don't know where. Apparently it was inconvenient when I tried to stop them because they did this." Gwaine pointed at his eye. "They chucked Percival into a completely different wagon and rode off. Had a different buyer for him, I suppose."

"Did someone recognize Arthur?"

"Don't think so but I can't think of a reason why they would separate him but not the three of us."

Merlin did his best to hide his panic. "We have to find him." Behind him another forty slaves returned for dinner.

"Merlin, Jeer's here. He's captaining this."

"Who?"

Gwaine sat up straighter and cleared his throat. "Notorious slave trader. Jarl – the bloke who captured you and Arthur when you were going after the Cup of Life? Jeer is his brother. The slave fights were his idea."

"Well, Champion, think he's doing that here, too?"

"No doubt. I heard a few of them already making bets about Lancelot's chances in the arena. I'd get in on that if I had some gold with me."

Merlin smiled. If Gwaine could keep his sense of humor, so could he.

"Is my daddy here?" a meek voice asked. The boy in the corner inched closer to them having apparently decided they weren't going to hurt him. He was ten years old, maybe eleven. Large chocolate eyes, pouty lips, the tanned skin of a farmer's son.

Merlin took off his brown jacket and gently wrapped it around the boy's shoulders. "Was your father taken by slave traders? I'm sorry. What's your name?"

The little boy sniffed and rubbed his eyes. "Edgar."

"Hello, Edgar. I'm Merlin and this is Gwaine."

"The mean men took my brothers, too. I'm scared."

Merlin patted his arm. "I know. I'm a lot older than you and I'm scared, too. But my friends and I are here to help."

"You are? Who are you?"

"I can't tell you that but, trust me, stay close to us and we'll help you find your family and get home."

"You should've answered him,  _Merlin_ ," said a new voice. "Now we have to do this the hard way."

The cell door opened. Edgar dropped Merlin's coat and scampered out to the man holding the key. "Father," he said, "the man's name is Arthur."

"So I heard, my boy." The man wrapped his arm around Edgar, gave him a brief, disinterested hug and then nudged him away. "Go get your supper." Six men filed into the cell. Gwaine jumped into a fighting stance but didn't get far when four swords pointed at his throat. "Name's Jeer," said Edgar's father. He had the widest chest Merlin had ever seen and a wavy scar that traveled from the corner of his lip up to his earlobe. He walked over to the unconscious Lancelot, placed his boot on his neck and gave Merlin the slyest of smiles. "I know you're here to free these slaves. Now tell me how you plan to do it and how many reinforcements you have or I'll snap your friend's neck right now,  _Knight_!"

Merlin pursed his lips together.

"All right, option number two," said Jeer. To Gwaine's shock, and double shock for Merlin, Jeer's eyes glowed gold. A silver dagger floated down to Lancelot and hovered above his heart.

Merlin's stomach sank, followed by his heart. They had come into this mission wholly unprepared. It was far, far more complicated than they'd anticipated.

"Do not doubt that I will kill him," said Jeer. He took something out of his pocket. "I already killed your  _king_."

Jeer tossed the object to Merlin. He recognized it in mid-air. It was Arthur's silver ring, and it was still warm.

\----------

Arthur was ready when a guard came in to give him water. The fool walked right up to him with the cup. Spider-quick he jumped and wrapped his knees around the man's bloated throat and cut off the air supply instantly. The brute was large but not strong, and rarely if ever battle-tested. He panicked and swat his fingers at Arthur's boots.

"Keys, please," Arthur said.

The man didn't hesitate. He took a ring of keys out of his shirt pocket and handed them up to Arthur's fingers so that he could unlock his cuffs. Once he was free, Arthur kept squeezing the guard's throat until he passed out. The king left the room wearing his clothes: black trousers, black tunic with a red handkerchief tied around each wrist, a thick belt and a third handkerchief covering the bottom half of his face.

The moment he stepped out into the hall, he heard a noise that could only be described as a wail.

" _Merlin_?"

\----------

 

After three days of formulating an escape plan, Arthur still had no idea how to get the slaves and his men to safety. It was never his intention to go into Jeer's headquarters. They meant to escape from the caged carriage when they saw the location, then return with half the army. Arthur considered escaping himself and taking his chances on finding help, but he couldn't leave Gwaine, Lancelot and Merlin behind. Jeer ordered the other slave traders to work Gwaine and Lancelot to death, so the only food and water they got was what Arthur, disguised as a guard, managed to sneak them. If they didn't starve to death they'd surely get killed in the slave fights, or die from an infection in the whip slashes in their bare backs. Arthur half expected them to keel over dead from shock when they saw that he was still alive. They almost shared a group hug before they remembered how many eyes were on them.

So Arthur was beyond relieved when he recognized the muscled arms of a new guard walking in front of him. He stepped in front of the man and stopped abruptly. A glance back, a wink, and Arthur led the man down a western tunnel. The traders amassed slaves to search for silver in the White Mountains. That digging was put on hold, though, when a small earthquake hit. For three days, the slaves had been reshaping the tunnels and digging with their hands to unearth their own shovels. Lancelot and Gwaine worked in the back corner of a domed supply chamber the size of Arthur's chambers. A mound of rocks stood between the guards and their stockpile of wine. The Knights had the honor of uncovering it.

Lancelot, sweaty and shirtless and out of breath, saw them approach. " _Percival_?"

"Hallucinating, are you?" Gwaine asked without looking up from his armful of stone. Lancelot elbowed him. Gwaine almost dropped a rock onto his foot. "Percival?"

"Looks like the cavalry's here, boys," Arthur whispered. He pat Percival on the shoulder.

"How did you get back here?" Lancelot asked. He pretended to pick at a stubborn stone stack while he spoke. "Gwaine saw you taken away."

Percival followed Arthur's lead of slowly circling the slaves as he talked. "I woke up about a quarter mile down the road and – well – confiscated the wagon they put me in. Wasn't sure what happened to you lot so I went back to Camelot. Leon, Elyan and the others are here. They're going to attack the southern entrance at sundown, right by the arena. We need to be ready to help." The knight looked around. "Where's Merlin?"

Arthur, Lancelot and Gwaine's faces fell. "They moved him to another cell," said Arthur. "We can't find him."

"The damndest thing happened, Percival." Gwaine risked looking directly at him. "The head bloke around here, Jeer, he comes and tells us he killed Arthur, right? Merlin was upset – Arthur heard his sob two chambers away. Merlin falls to his knees and, I swear, the second Merlin touched the ground that was when the earthquake hit. I swear."

"Coincidence," Lancelot insisted. "Odd one, I'll give you that. Jeer took Merlin away, and Arthur's been looking for him when he can."

"There's one last section I haven't checked," Arthur said. "It's well guarded. I figure Merlin's back there if he's still in this place. If he's still alive…" Arthur sighed. "Can you two make it to sundown while Percival and I look for Merlin?"

Lancelot and Gwaine exchanged doubtful but determined looks. "If they don't put us in the slave fights," said Lancelot.

"Especially against each other," said Gwaine.

Arthur nodded. "We'll hurry."

Lancelot nodded back. If he was trying to hide his concern about Merlin, he failed. "See you at sundown."

\----------

"I'm sorry," Merlin whispered to Arthur's ring for the hundredth time. "I'm so sorry I failed you."

The young servant lay on dirty straw facing the stone wall of his tiny cell. He rubbed the silver ring between his thumb and forefinger and then pressed it to his dry lips. Above him, a cross of straw, twine and ash hung from the ceiling. Merlin felt the object suppressing his magic, crippling him, but he didn't care. Every once in awhile he told himself to make a mental note to remember to use such a totem on Morgana. But then he remembered that Arthur was dead, that Morgana would win, that his life no longer had purpose and he planned to die alone in the dark cell.

His only visitor was Jeer. Jeer who considered him something of a rare species. Jeer who kept Merlin alive only because he wanted to either take his power as his own, or get Merlin to be one of his disciples. "Feel that?" Jeer asked when he came. "Feel the totem choking your magic out of you? After this much exposure it will take you days to recover – weeks perhaps. If you pledge your allegiance to me I'll let you keep your magic. If you don't you'll join your beloved Arthur six feet under."

Merlin said nothing. Made no sound. Even when Jeer kicked him. Even when Jeer taunted him by describing Arthur's final breaths in detail. Jeer left him alone after awhile. A toy that didn't interact with him did little to keep his interest.

So Merlin was lying there, doing what he'd been doing for three days, mourning his best friend, when a different visitor came. Merlin saw his tall shadow on the wall when the door opened. The figure knelt behind him and grasped his shoulder. "Merlin."

Merlin recognized the voice and rolled over. "Percival?"

The knight nodded. "Up and at 'em, Merlin. We're getting out of here."

Merlin shook his head. "Leave me."

"What are you talking about? Come on, before the guards come."

"I have no reason to get up, Percival. I have no reason to fight. Arthur is dead and so am I."

Percival's face blushed a shade darker. For a moment, Merlin saw the anger in his eyes that he usually aimed at his enemies, not his friends. "On your feet, Merlin. We're liberating the slaves and we need help with the women and children." He yanked the servant to his feet. "Arthur's alive."

Merlin's dehydrated body swayed. "I swear, Percival, that is the cruelest joke I've ever heard."

Percival supported him until he could stand on his own feet. "Merlin, I saw him myself a couple hours ago. Jeer lied when he said he killed him – it was all a lie. Now come on. Arthur needs you."

Percival checked for guards and then led the way down the hall. Merlin stared at the back of his head for a long moment. The sensation of his heart mending itself was peculiar. He imagined that it broke at the bad news. Shattered in pieces smaller than the eye could see. And each piece sank to the bottom of his soul, cutting it into ribbons as they fell. The knowledge that Arthur still breathed filled the pieces with air. They rose like fireflies, flickering and then illuminating his mind, body and soul. His heart was sewn together by strings of hope.

Merlin stopped before he left the cell. He glared up at the straw totem, frowned and reached down deep into the joy and love he felt for Arthur. His eyes glowed gold. He grinned, blinked.

The totem disintegrated in flame.

\----------

"Sundown," Arthur muttered to no one but himself. "We're in a bloody cave. How am I supposed to know when it's sundown?" Arthur stood on the top step of crudely assembled wooden bleachers. Lancelot and Gwaine stood back to back in the arena, holding nothing but wooden swords. They looked like walking corpses. Their opponents were two of the biggest, strongest guards under Jeer's command. The majority of the slaves rested in adjoining chambers while the majority of slave traders circled the arena shouting at the fighters and making bets about their lives. Arthur knew he had to act. His knights wouldn't survive five minutes.

The Knights of Camelot attacked so suddenly and swiftly that half of the slave traders were on their backs before they noticed the red capes. Leon and Elyan fought their way to Gwaine and Lancelot and carried them down the tunnel they came from. Squires and guards led the exhausted slaves to safety while the knights kept the enemy off their backs. With a yell, Percival leapt into the fight and, to Arthur's relief, Merlin was right behind him. Arthur was waving at Merlin and Percival when the wall behind them exploded and rained rock on top of them.

" _Merlin_!"

Arthur raced through the crowd dodging daggers and swinging maces from friend and foe. He tripped over a dead slave trader. The man's unseeing eyes looked shocked. A boulder the size of Gaius' medicine bag hit him right on the top of his head. A coughing, gasping Percival emerged from the fog of dust caused by the explosion. "What the hell was that?" Percival yelled.

"Jeer!" Arthur shouted. "We have to get out of here before he uses magic to bring the whole place down! Where's Merlin?" Percival's jaw dropped. He pointed into the dust. "Merlin!" Arthur waded into the dark cloud. Every time he tripped over a prone body he expected to see his friend's unseeing blue eyes. Arthur felt his joints unhinging in fear. "Don't be dead," he whispered, "don't be dead, please don't be dead." Arthur spotted the familiar silhouette of a figure lying face down. Rocks covered him but they were small, thin. Arthur pushed and kicked them aside. He rolled Merlin onto his back and gave him a shake. "Merlin –  _Merlin_!"

The young sorcerer coughed, frowned and licked his lips. Dust rolled off his eyelids when he opened his eyes. At the sight of a breathing Arthur, he grinned – wide – and a pair of tears appeared from nowhere and traced zigzags in the dirt down his cheeks. Merlin grasped Arthur's shoulder with one hand and rubbed his fingers down his cheek with the other. "I thought you were dead," he whispered, his throat full of dust. "God, Arthur, for three days I thought you were dead."

"I thought  _you_  were dead!" Arthur gasped. He helped Merlin sit up and wrapped him up in a tight hug. "I don't know what I… Merlin, you're skin and bones."

"Doesn't matter," Merlin hiccupped. He grabbed the back of Arthur's blond head and pushed him harder against his shoulder. "You're alive."

Arthur chuckled and wiped his damp eyes. "Come on, let's get out of here. Stay behind me." The fight was going well. There were more traders than knights on the ground. Battles continued. Leon took on three traders at a time. The boys got about ten feet towards the southern tunnel before Jeer appeared in front of him.

"Pendragon!" Jeer shouted. Arthur unsheathed his sword and stood between Merlin and the sorcerer.

"No!" Merlin said, fighting to get around him. "I'm sorry, Arthur. This isn't how I wanted this to go."

"Merlin, what—"

"You," Merlin said to Arthur, "stay behind me." With a strength Arthur didn't realize his servant had, Merlin grabbed Arthur's sword, pushed him aside and held it to Jeer.

Just then, Jeer unleashed horizontal bolts of lightning. There was nothing Arthur could do but cover his face. He was surprised, a moment later, when he opened his eyes and discovered that he wasn't dead. Merlin stood in front of him, his feet shoulder length apart and his chin held high. Merlin held the sword in front of him, diagonally. Somehow the sword not only blocked the lightning bolts but absorbed them.

Jeer unsheathed his own weapon. He had the same look on his face that Arthur did. But, perhaps, with even more shock. "You!" Jeer said. "That's impossible. My totem sucked your magic dry. You should be unable to stand let alone use your powers."

Merlin smiled, lips only. He twirled the sword with his wrist. "Do you know who I am?" he demanded.

Jeer raised his sword but also his palm. "No, and it doesn't matter." He approached.

Merlin held his ground. "I am Emrys," Merlin said. "Stand down or I will kill you. And if you lay one more finger on my friend, I will kill you _twice_." He used Jeer's own lightning bolts against him. They brought their swords down at the same time. Metal clashed, stray lightning bolts spat in every direction. Arthur ducked against the wall. Merlin was no swordsman but he'd been watching Arthur for years. He stabbed, parried, and stabbed again with the ferocity and agility of a desperate and determined man. For his part, Jeer was a better swordsman, but not sorcerer.

Merlin blocked a wave of fire. He stepped forward, anger in his face, both hands on his sword as he channeled his magic into it. His eyes glowed gold for minutes on end as he summoned spell after spell. Merlin made a twirling motion with his right fingers and three tornadoes descended from the ceiling. Two stood guard beside him and the third attacked. Jeer used his own wind to smack the tornado aside. Then he summoned his own knights. A pair of figures made of nothing but fire stitched together by lightning rose from his feet, brandishing their own swords. Merlin attacked. Arthur stared, slack jawed, as the two sorcerers dueled. They were immersed in fire and wind. Every few seconds Arthur caught a glimpse of Merlin's shoes or Jeer's fists. Stray lightning burst across the chamber and knocked more rocks down. The bleachers caught fire. One of the sorcerers summoned water and Arthur watched, fascinated, as millions of drops that lived on the damp cave's floors, walls and ceiling marched towards the center, accumulated and splashed down on the duelers with the force of a tsunami. Jeer got knocked aside. The wind calmed, slightly, and picked up again to extinguish the nearby fires.

Merlin kneeled in the center of his dying tornadoes. He gasped for air. The clothes on his left side had been slashed by tongues of flame. "Merlin!" Arthur called.

Merlin forced himself to his feet but then fell back to his knees again.

Jeer was just as slow getting back up. Arthur sprinted forward. "Come on!" he yelled. He pulled Merlin's left arm across his shoulders to take some of his weight. He saw then that Merlin was bleeding from his right side just below his ribs. At some point Jeer got in a blow. "Let's go," Arthur shouted. Pulling Merlin along, Arthur raced down the southern tunnel with the remainder of the knights and guards of Camelot, and the slaves.

"Arthur," Merlin gasped, "I don't know if – I can't…"

"Keep going!"

The corridor went left, right, then left again. It narrowed and then became extra wide. It opened above a plain in the White Mountains. Arthur saw his knights' uniforms ahead, saw the gold dragon of the Camelot crest. Right when they reached the mouth of the cave they heard a familiar voice yell. Magic flung Merlin and Arthur forward. They rolled, head over heels, out of the cave and down a short hill. They landed on their backs, Merlin facing the cave and Arthur facing the opposite. Arthur looked over his shoulder and saw Merlin raise his hands. Before Jeer made it out of the cave, the mouth closed. Arthur thought he screamed "Emrys!" Every inch of the cave entrance folded in on itself. Whether dead, buried or blocked, Jeer was no longer a threat.

Arthur rolled onto his stomach, reached over and clasped Merlin's arm. "Merlin?"

Merlin hugged his wounds, flinched, blinked rapidly. "This is yours," he said to Arthur. He took a silver object out of his pocket. Gratitude replaced Arthur's anxiety. He put the ring on and flexed his fingers. "Arthur…" Merlin gasped, his head falling back onto the grass, "there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

Arthur laughed deep in his stomach. "Let me guess: you're a sorcerer?"

Merlin grinned. And passed out.

\----------

Merlin kept his eyes shut and just enjoyed Gaius and Arthur's voices. He wasn't in Jeer's cell. He wasn't in the Camelot dungeon. He was home in his own bed, and they were fussing over him. Gaius told Arthur to pass him a bowl and two jars. Merlin heard chopping, clanging and Gaius whispering spells. The scent of burning herbs filled the physician's chambers.

"How long until our Court Sorcerer is on his feet?"

"A day. Is that what you've decided to call him?"

"Gwen's idea. What do you need next?"

"Nothing. I just have to stay up with him tonight and change the bandages every hour. The spells draw out the dark magic and the herbs heal."

"I'll stay. I'll stay up with him." After a brief argument, Gaius agreed and left the room. Merlin heard Arthur sigh and sit down at his bedside. "I know you're awake."

Merlin smiled. "Court Sorcerer?"

"Like it?"

"Nice ring to it. So you're not going to behead me?"

"No."

"Hang me?"

"No."

"Burn me at the stake?"

"Merlin, I'm not going to let anybody kill you."

"Do you forgive me?" Merlin asked. "For keeping the secret. For lying all of these years."

"Merlin." Arthur rubbed his eyes. "There's nothing to forgive. But, when you're better, we do need to have a long talk."

"I prefer that to burning alive." They shared a laugh. When Merlin grew tired again he also grew nostalgic. "I'm glad you're alive," he whispered to Arthur.

Arthur smiled. "Gwaine told me that the earthquake struck right when you found out I was dead. I heard you… scream, too. It was you, wasn't it? You caused that quake."

"Not on purpose. I lost control for a moment." Merlin looked embarrassed. "I was… upset."

"I thought you were dead," Arthur reminded him. "I saw the boulders fall and…" He sighed and scratched the back of his head. He looked everywhere but directly at Merlin. "I didn't cause an earthquake but if I had an ounce of magic in me, I probably would have."

"Really?" Merlin asked.

"Undoubtedly."

**The End**


	19. Merlin's Wicked Day

King Arthur didn't have to remember where Hunith lived. All of Ealdor left candles and bundles of flowers and grasses outside her door. Arthur tied up his steed in the nearby stable and patted Merlin's horse on his way out.

He almost barged into her home. Out of habit. The King of Camelot never knocked. Flickering candlelight caught his attention in a small, dirty window. Arthur peeked inside. Hunith lay in a narrow bed covered in wool blankets. Merlin sat beside her on a short stool. Arthur imagined his father sitting at his own mother's side, comforting her, assuring her that she was going to be all right. A brief mist in his eyes obscured the scene. He bucked up his courage, then, and used a single knuckle to knock on the door.

In hindsight, Arthur wasn't sure how he expected Merlin to react. But he knew what he  _didn't_  expect: Merlin came outside, shut the door, and then shoved him and called him a son of a bitch. "One day!" Merlin shouted, and he pushed Arthur's chest again. "I wanted one day with my dying mother! To hold her when she can't breathe anymore, when her stomach hurts so much that she weeps but, no, big important King  _bloody_  Arthur needs his armor cooked and his food—his food  _scrubbed_ —and—"

"Merlin!"

"—and you came all the way out here just to shout at me, eh? To call me lazy and a coward and a lousy servant as if my entire existence revolves around you—"

"Merlin, that's not why I'm here!"

"Yes, I left without telling you. I left without permission. I left without making you a bloody bath but my mother is  _dying_ , you  _colossal clot-pole_ , and I don't know what you think you're doing here interrupting the last few hours I have with her but—"

"Merlin, I'm here to…" Arthur's tongue froze against his teeth. He suddenly forgot why he came.

Merlin tore at his hair. "Here for what, Arthur, for what?"

"To be with you! To help you through this! To…" Arthur recalled Merlin's words after Uther died. He took a deep breath. " _I didn't want you to feel that you were alone_."

Merlin blinked. His mouth remained open so long his gums might have dried out. "I, uh…" he finally mumbled. Merlin scratched his head. Muscles and tendons relaxed as if recovering from a possession. "Arthur, I… Look, I…" After three deep, calming breaths he said, "Would you like some tea? Er, we don't have any meat or bread right now but I could go find you some—"

"Merlin."

"What?"

Arthur clasped his friend's shoulder. With unlimited gentleness and affection, he said, "Shut up."

A smile flickered across the servant's face. Merlin wormed his arms through Arthur's and hugged him. Arthur hugged him back. Fondly he patted Merlin's back and squeezed. A half-minute passed before Merlin stepped back and wiped his eyes. He opened the door but gestured for Arthur to stay outside. "Wait here," he said, "I need to ask her if it's all right for you to—"

"Is that Arthur?" Hunith suddenly called. Her usually meek voice was even softer.

Both Arthur and Merlin winced. "Yes, Mother."

"See? I told you he would come."

Merlin muttered something unintelligible and avoided Arthur's gaze.

"Don't just stand there, Merlin. He's the king of Camelot. Make him some tea."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Make yourself comfortable," he said, and he and Arthur entered the house.

As Arthur shut the door behind him and looked around at the dirty floor, short stubby wax candles and the dying woman lying on nothing but hard wood, he suddenly realized how very much he didn't belong there. It was a private moment meant for family. He was an intruder. To Hunith, barely more than a stranger. Hunith watched him shifting his weight from one boot to the other with wide, watery eyes, and she seemed to read his mind. "I'm glad you're here, Your Majesty. Merlin needs a brother during a time like this."

Arthur looked to his right for Merlin's reaction but his back was turned as he heated water over the fire. Arthur cleared his throat and knelt down on one knee in front of Hunith. As if lifting a baby bird he brought her white hand to his lips and kissed it. "Please, call me Arthur, my Lady."

Hunith smiled and gripped his hand. Her fingers were cold. "I told Merlin that you would come. He didn't believe me. In fact, he said that you wouldn't even notice he was gone."

Behind them, Merlin snorted.

Arthur struggled for words. Somehow it was ten times more difficult to talk to someone dying than someone healthy. "Of course I noticed. Your son is a…  _talented_  servant. Truly indispensable. For example his skills at, um, polishing are... unmatched."

Hunith laughed so loud that she began to cough. "Are we talking about the same Merlin?" she asked. "Polishing. Honestly. You know, once when he was a boy, Merlin volunteered to clean our dishes. It was so out of character! He fought back every time I mentioned a chore. Preferred to roam the forest or explore the caves. He had to be taught how to use a rake – can you imagine? The boy grows up around farmers and he doesn't know what to do with the business end of a rake."

Arthur instantly relaxed. If there was one thing he was comfortable with, it was teasing Merlin.

"Anyway, I watched Merlin gather up all of the dishes, cups and utensils and take them to the stable. I peeked in and watched as he let the horses lick up every itty-bitty crumb. He put them in the cupboard like that! He expected me to eat off of a horse-slobbered plate!"

"You shouldn't have told him that, Mother." Merlin joined their small circle and handed Arthur a cup of tea. "Now he knows what I do with  _his_ dishes."

Hunith winked at Arthur. "You have my permission to put him in the stocks."

"Don't encourage him!" Merlin laughed.

For hours, Arthur sat on the floor and listened to Hunith tell stories about Merlin, about Ealdor, about her childhood and about Merlin's father. At one point it occurred to Arthur that he didn't know Merlin's father's name, but he wasn't about to ask. Merlin's smile shifted from stifled to genuine to laughing as she told one story after another about his childhood antics. And then, finally, Hunith seemed to tire. Breathing wasn't as easy anymore. Merlin's smile faded.

"Forgive me, Sire," said Hunith, "but I have a favor to ask of you."

Arthur couldn't imagine what it was. Nonetheless, he nodded.

Hunith licked her lips and rotated her head closer to him. "My son is a good man," she whispered. "He's a rare soul, my Merlin. He is wise, humble, selfless, kind and trustworthy. Please, never take that for granted. Never take  _him_  for granted."

Arthur had never heard Merlin described in such a way. He surprised himself when he agreed with every word. "I promise." Arthur felt Merlin's eyes on him and did his best to ignore him.

"He tells me you are a fair and merciful king. Patient. Willing to help the lowliest peasant with the smallest problem. Willing to sacrifice yourself for your people. Is that who you are? Are you still the man who helped farmers defend Ealdor from marauders?"

"I try to be, my Lady."

"Then this is my request, Arthur: always be a king worthy of my son's loyalty and affection."

Arthur nodded. "I will, my Lady." He was surprised to realize that was a promise.

"You know, I never put much thought into how I would like to spend my final hours," she whispered to them both. "But spending them bragging about my son would definitely have been on my list."

Merlin kissed her forehead.

"Merlin?"

"Yes, Mother?"

"I'm cold. Are there more blankets?"

"Well…" Merlin looked around. "I could ask the neighbors."

"Oh, don't bother them. It's the middle of the night."

"Mother—"

"Here." Arthur unhooked his traveling cloak and his red cape. He wrapped Hunith in both, careful to make sure her feet were covered and that the fabric didn't itch her chin. Instead of sitting back down he slowly stepped backwards. Merlin's posture had changed. The mood in the room changed. Arthur intended to leave them alone but when Hunith wasn't looking, Merlin looked at him with full eyes and mouthed "Please stay."

Arthur did. He stayed within arm's reach of Merlin while still giving them privacy. Hunith reached for her son. "My angel," she whispered, and caressed Merlin's cheek. "My brave, beautiful boy. Have I told you that I'm proud of you?"

Merlin sniffed and smiled. "Once or twice." Merlin leaned over and pressed his forehead against her chest. Hunith played with his black hair between her fingers. "I'm sorry," Merlin hiccupped, "I'm sorry I didn't visit more these past years. I should have stayed longer. I – I thought about you every day, Mother, I did. There's so much I want to say to you…"

Hunith began to weep, then. Thin, quick tears. She no longer fought for breaths. They came slower and slower. A tide losing momentum. "Your father would be proud, too."

Arthur saw Merlin's face twist as if he was being physically tortured.

"I should have told you years ago, my son. Years." Hunith lifted Merlin's chin until he looked at her. "Merlin, your father's name is—"

"I know," Merlin said louder and quicker than Arthur anticipated. Merlin cupped Hunith's cheeks. "Gaius told me."

"Oh…" Hunith looked surprised, but not disappointed. "My biggest regret, Merlin, is that you never met him. My biggest regret is that he never had the pleasure to watch you grow up. What you must understand, son, is that—"

"I do. I know." Muscles in Merlin's neck and cheeks worked. Arthur recognized the expression. Merlin was trying to gather his courage. "Don't regret," Merlin said. "Especially don't regret that." His throat closed and he coughed to open it again. "Mother… we met. I met him. I met my father."

Arthur expected her to be angry. He expected her to say something like "why didn't you tell me" or "how dare you keep that secret from me." But, no. Hunith's face lit up. For a moment she looked not just healthy but twenty years younger. "Oh, Merlin," she gasped, "I am so very happy to hear that. I'm so happy. I wanted you to know him."

Merlin nodded. "We had a day."

She clung to the light but it slipped away fast. Hunith's lips paled and her eyelids turned lavender. "Was it a good day?"

Merlin tried to say "Yes" but the only sound distinguishable through his sob was a brief hiss.

Hunith pinched the tip of Merlin's red handkerchief. "I love you, Merlin. I love you so much." Her arms went limp.

Merlin's Adam's apple bounced. "I love you too, Mother. More than I can say." He touched her hair, her cheek, her hand. "Thank you," he whispered.

Tears clouded Arthur's vision.

A minute passed. Tears raced down Merlin's cheeks. "…Mother?"

She didn't blink.

\---------

Arthur sat on the ground just outside of Hunith's home and watched the sunrise for the first time in years.  _Really_  watched it. Counted the colors and paid attention to the heat on his cheek. The door behind him opened and shut. Merlin collapsed down beside Arthur. His red eyes were still watery. Arthur watched his friend. The angle of his shoulders, the slack jaw, an expression that was part shock, part disbelief, part acceptance. Arthur didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do. So he sat by Merlin. He was just… there.

"Arthur," Merlin whispered, his sparkling eyes staring at the fresh sun, "It's a new day."

**The End**

 


	20. The Taste Test

A stranger intercepted Merlin at the kitchen door. Wide green eyes and a broad smile greeted him with, "You must be Merlin, the king's servant? I have His Highness' lunch right here." The man twisted his wrist and presented a dish of chicken, potatoes, apple slices and broccoli.

Merlin's eyebrows stood at attention. "Oh," he stuttered as he caught the plate, "thank you…? I, uh, I just have to take this to the royal taste tester before I deliver it to King Arthur."

The man blocked Merlin from entering the kitchen. "That won't be necessary," he said. His smile stretched even wider. "Jacob fell ill and asked me to stand in for him. I'm his brother, Albert." Stretch, stretch. "I already tasted the food and I assure you it is, indeed, fit for a king."

"Right," said Merlin, stretching the word to two syllables. "Great, I'll be off, then."

Albert playfully punched Merlin in the shoulder. "Give the king my best!" he said, then disappeared into a fog of steam and flour in the kitchen.

Merlin stood in the door for another moment. "Didn't know Jacob had a brother," he said aloud to no one.

Merlin climbed the staircase slowly. His suspicious rose and fell with his knees on each step. Although he got strange looks from every guard and servant he passed, that didn't stop him from sniffing each apple slice and broccoli individually, and the lengths of the chicken breast and potato. The food smelled… normal. Not just normal but good – good enough to make Merlin's stomach growl. He wondered if so many years of bad luck made him just plain paranoid. Perhaps there was a fine line between caution and paranoia. Merlin needed to balance the two to keep his sanity.

Then again, what was more important: his sanity or Arthur's life?

Merlin stuffed an apple slice in his mouth before he changed his mind. He walked as he chewed, and ate a piece of broccoli when he entered the hall that led to Arthur's chambers. A glob of potato skewered by a fork followed the vegetable. He slowed down, then. The last thing he needed was to be caught. Since Gwen was banished, Arthur's moods were unpredictable and his temper short. Merlin halted outside of Arthur's door and finished chewing. He washed it down with half of the cup of wine. As he lowered the cup he realized that a head poked out of the door. A disheveled Arthur watched him with one eyebrow raised and the other frowning. Merlin gulped and held up his free hand in surrender. "This isn't what it looks like." Arthur must have been in an extra sour mood because instead of yelling at Merlin he snatched the plate out of his hands and slammed the door shut. "Wait!" Merlin shouted, and barged into the room after him. "Arthur –  _chicken_!"

Arthur held out the heel of his hand and Merlin ran into it forehead-first. "Merlin, you idiot," he growled through his teeth, "what the hell are you doing?"

Merlin made a wild grab for the plate and Arthur swung it above and behind his head. "Arthur, seriously, please don't eat the chicken until I taste it."

"Merlin, is Gaius not feeding you? No?" Arthur nodded at the pile of parchment on his table. "You see that? See all that work I have to do? I don't even have time to eat, Merlin, let alone deal with you! In fact you're probably the last person in the kingdom I want to see right now!"

The remark stung Merlin's feelings but he pushed them aside. He reminded himself not to take it personally – Arthur was stressed, and he missed Gwen. "I'm not eating your food, Arthur, I'm testing it! There was a different man tasting—"

"Merlin, shut up!" Arthur barked. "I have too much to do today to play games. It's perfectly fine – watch." Arthur picked up the chicken breast and brought it to his lips.

Arthur didn't see Merlin's eyes flash gold. He did see the chicken soar out of his hand and land in the servant's. Merlin didn't hesitate. He took the biggest bite he could, chewed it only once and then swallowed it whole.

The effect was instantaneous.

Merlin swallowed fire. That's what it tasted like. Fire and death. He flung the remaining chicken aside and then violently emptied his stomach into the dry fireplace. "Don't eat," he gasped, as if Arthur was likely to pick the chicken up off the dirty floor, "— _poison_!"

\----------

Gwaine kicked his way through the double doors that led to the dungeons. "Where is he?" he bellowed. Two wide-eyed guards pointed down the left hallway. Gwaine marched to the first cell. Percival and Leon stood on either side of the door, arms folded against their chests, scowls on their faces. Gwaine winked at them. "Why did you do it?" he demanded of the green-eyed man behind the iron bars. " _Why did you kill our king_?"

Albert's jaw dropped to his chin. "The king? The  _king_  is dead?"

"You poisoned his food!"

The assassin plopped onto the bed, put his face in his hands and groaned, "Oh, no..."

Percival and Leon exchanged confused looks. Gwaine smirked. "Odd reaction, don't you think, boys?"

Leon walked up to the bars. "Usually assassins are happy when they hear they've been successful."

"So why isn't this one?" Percival wondered.

"Because he never meant to kill Arthur," said Gwaine. "That poison was meant for Merlin all along." Albert perked up at the servant's name. "Hear this," Gwaine growled at him, "if Merlin dies, I'll kill you myself." The knight turned on his heel and strode out.

\----------

"Well?" Gaius and Arthur asked when Gwaine entered the physician's chambers.

"Merlin's right," said the knight. "That man was suspicious on purpose. He wasn't after you, Arthur. He knew that Merlin would taste your food."

Arthur rubbed his red eyes. "Who would want to kill Merlin?" he asked the room.

"That can't be our priority right now," said Gaius. "Finding a cure for Merlin is our priority."

"Finding one?" Gwaine's eyebrows disappeared into his bangs. "You don't know of one?"

Gaius' eyes narrowed and his jaw line tightened. "It's part Serket poison, part Questing Beast venom and part something I have no name for. It's a miracle I've kept him alive the past two hours." He turned his back and resumed chopping up herbs.

Arthur avoided Gwaine's eyes. "There's no non-magical cure," he explained.

Gwaine's shoulders drooped. "Arth — Sire, surely in such dire circumstances… You made an exception for Uther!"

"I made an exception for the King! Merlin is…"

"Just a servant?" Gwaine asked, his temper turning his face red.

"That's not what I was going to say!" Arthur snapped, his own face as crimson as his tunic. "I was going to say that Merlin is my friend but if I make an exception for him, I'll have to make an exception for every soul in Camelot."

" _So_?" Gwaine sputtered. "Arthur, this is  ** _Merlin_**  we're talking about!"

" _Gwaine_!" Arthur barked in his most "royal" voice. "Sir Gwaine, don't you have a training session to lead this afternoon?"

Gwaine didn't hide his snarl. "Yes, I believe I do," he said with artificial calmness, "I'll take my leave, Your Majesty." Gwaine soaked the final two words in loathing and sarcasm.

As soon as the door shut, Arthur turned to Gaius. "How long will it take to prepare the cure?"

Gaius started. "Sire? The – The one that requires magic?"

"Yes. How long?"

"Well, I…" Gaius stuttered. "The potion will take six hours if I hurry."

"Do it in four," Arthur ordered.

"What made you change your mind?"

Arthur scratched the top of one boot with the heel of the other. "My mind never changed. I was always going to allow you to use the cure. Partially because I know, Gaius, that you would do it whether you have my permission or not."

Gaius didn't deny it.

"I'm not going to let Merlin die, Gaius," Arthur said, "but I also can't allow magic to run free in the kingdom. Only you and I will know what really saved Merlin's life, understood?"

Before Gaius could agree, a crackling voice called from the bedroom, "Arthur?"

Arthur and Gaius looked at each other. "Can't he eat anything?" Arthur whispered. "Gaius, can't he just have some water?"

"I'm afraid not, Your Majesty," Gaius said. His posture straightened, his shoulders seemed a little less heavy. "Sorry, Sire. I'll do what I can to distract him from the discomfort until the cure is ready."

"Arthur!" the voice called again. Begged.

"You focus on the potion," Arthur said. "I'll sit with him."

\----------

Merlin – covered in sweat, eyelids purpling, face white – stared at Arthur without blinking as he shut the door behind him and sat on a stool beside his servant. The king picked up a rag and mopped the blood away from beneath Merlin's nose and the sweat sliding down his forehead towards his eyes.

"Arthur," Merlin whispered, licking his dry lips, "I'm thirsty."

"I know." Arthur swallowed the air in his throat. He kept his eyes on the rag as he rubbed Merlin's neck. "Soon. You'll be able to eat and drink soon."

Merlin chuckled. "Lousy liar, you are. I heard Gwaine. Was I right? Did he talk to Albert? I was right, wasn't I?"

"Shh," Arthur said. In the past two hours, Merlin bounced from lethargic to manic in moments, and Arthur preferred the former. "Yes, he was trying to kill you. And, apparently, it was easier to get to my food than to yours."

"Well, Gaius is very protective of me," Merlin said with a smile peeking out of the corner of his mouth. "Did he say why?"

Arthur shook his head. "Do you know why? Do you know who?"

"Morgana, I suppose. Whoever sent him knew that I would never let you eat food that I wasn't sure was safe."

"Why?" Arthur scratched his head. "Of all people, why target you?"

"Maybe she knows something that we don't?" Merlin said with the drama and pizazz of a seasoned actor. "Maybe she knows that I'm important. That nobody else in Camelot can protect you like I can. Maybe she knows that I'm special!"

Arthur tossed aside the damp cloth and retrieved a clean one. "Fever went up, eh? You really should rest, Merlin."

Merlin laughed. His voice and face were humorless. "It won't let me sleep," he whispered. "It – it won't let me sleep, Arthur. It's going to drive me mad." He tried to sit up and Arthur pinned him back down. "It's  _killing_   _me_ , isn't it?"

"'Course not." Arthur kept his hands on Merlin's shoulders and used his fingertips to massage them with slow circles. "Actually, Gaius had the cure an hour ago but I'm sorry to say that he has other patients to attend to that are worse off. He'll get to you soon, don't worry."

Merlin didn't respond to Arthur's smile. Not only was his face humorless now but blank, numb. "Arthur?"

"Yeah?"

Merlin reached up and wrapped his hand around his friend's wrist. "Even if I knew that food was poisoned, to save you I still would've eaten it."

For a brief moment, Arthur's lips trembled. Then they went stone still and straight. "That is because you're an  ** _idiot_**."

Merlin released a burst of near-hysterical laughter. "I'm an idiot? You just banished the woman you loved! And you call me an idiot? You – you chose to be miserable. You threw away your own soul mate. You – you're the idiot, Arthur."

Arthur removed his hands. "Merlin."

The servant rubbed his watery eyes. "Sorry… It's the fever talking."

"Right." Arthur pushed the stool back and stood.

Merlin snatched his sleeve. "Arthur, I'm sorry, don't leave."

"I'm not," Arthur assured him. A blue, freshly laundered shirt hung in Merlin's tiny wardrobe. Arthur helped Merlin slide off the sweat-soaked tunic and put on the dry one. They remained silent, at first, but then Arthur said, "Merlin, I just lost Gwen. Lancelot, too, in a way. I just lost my soul mate, I lost half of myself and I can't…" Merlin's face popped out of the shirt collar and his fierce blue eyes startled Arthur. " _I can't lose you, too_."

The effort of changing clothes exhausted Merlin. His eyes unfocused and he didn't even flinch when Arthur smoothed down his shirt and delicately wiped his hair off his forehead. "Half of yourself…" Merlin droned. "Half of the same coin…" Merlin's head twisted to the side. "Arthur, when I'm dead—"

"You're not going to die."

"Balderdash," Merlin whispered.

"I just spoke to Gaius. There's a potion that can cure you. And… a spell."

"Magic?" Merlin's eyes widened to teacup size. "Arthur,  _no_!"

\----------

Arthur poked his head out of Merlin's room. "Gaius?"

The physician jumped and put his hand over his heart. With his elbows on the table, his robes partially concealed something gold. "Sire?"

The king cocked his head to the left. "Merlin wants to speak to you… And what's  _that_?"

Gaius sighed. "This is what will save Merlin's life." He stood up straight and revealed the Cup of Life, its gold skin sparkling in the afternoon sunlight.

Arthur's face turned red. "We looked everywhere for that after Morgause's immortal army vanished. You've had it all this time?" Gaius pursed his lips. He didn't lower his chin or break eye contact with Arthur. Merlin called their names, then, and Arthur gave Gaius a seething we'll-talk-about-this-later look.

"Is that what I think it is?" Merlin whispered when Gaius joined Arthur in the bedroom. He tried to sit up but found out the hard way that he was too weak when he smacked the back of his head against the wall.

Arthur sprinted over to the bed. "Are you trying to kill yourself?" he hissed as he walked his fingers through Merlin's hair, checking for a bump.

"Are  _you_  trying to kill yourself?" Merlin demanded of Gaius. "Gaius, I won't let you use the Cup." He grabbed Arthur's wrist and begged with feverish eyes, "Please don't let him."

"Merlin, it's the only way." Gaius sat on the mattress at Merlin's feet and Arthur sat at his head. "Nature must be balanced."

A thin stream of blood tiptoed out of Merlin's nose. Arthur caught it with a clean rag before it reached his lip. "I know that better than—" Merlin took a deep breath and reminded himself to talk in code about magic around Arthur. "You told me once that according to the myths if the Cup is used to save a life it must take one in return. I will not let you give your life for mine."

Gaius' shoulders hunched over. "I have the king's permission to use magic."

Merlin glared at Arthur. "You agreed to let him kill himself?"

"No I did not," Arthur said with stone in his voice. "You should have told me your plan, Gaius. What happened to a potion taking six hours?"

"Forgive me, Sire, but I hoped that when you heard it would take that long you would leave, and I could use the Cup without your knowledge." Gaius sounded sorry, but didn't look it. "My life matters little. Merlin is young. He has a long life to live."

"And you're the court physician! You are a valued citizen, Gaius. Camelot needs you. Aren't there any other options?"

"No spells that I can perform, Sire," said Gaius. "I don't have the power."

"I won't let you do this," Merlin whispered. "I refuse to allow you to do anything that risky without my permission. I'm serious, Gaius." His eyes saw through Gaius and communicated an important understanding: if Gaius tried to use the Cup of Life to heal him, Merlin would use his own more powerful magic to stop him.

Arthur's voice softened. He wiped sweat off Merlin's neck and took a suspiciously long time re-arranging the blankets around him. "You're sure, Gaius?" Arthur finally asked. "Absolutely? Absolutely sure that this is the only option?"

The physician nodded. "Yes and I fear, Sire, that if Merlin and I are at a stalemate, it will be up to you to choose which one of us will live and which one will die."

Arthur paled.

"Gaius…" Merlin whispered. His heavy eyelids looked almost purple and his skin appeared to be made of wax.

"Unless…" Gaius said, stretching the second syllable.

"Unless what?" Arthur said the phrase so quickly the two words ran together into one.

Gaius glanced at Merlin. "I believe that there might be a way to… deceive nature. To trick it into thinking the balance of life and death remains."

"How?" Merlin asked. He spoke so softly they could barely hear him.

"For the Cup to work I'll have to invoke the power over life and death. I will then have the ability to put a life into the Cup. I do not doubt that, if I focus, I could save Merlin using  _parts_  of the lives of several men instead of  _all_  of one man."

Arthur thought about it. "So let's say you took a third of my life, a third of yours and a third of, say, Gwaine's… Merlin would be cured and we'd still be alive just… older?"

Gaius seemed to have aged while they sat together. "Nature does not measure life as we do. I doubt it would take away years. More likely it would take away your energy, affect your health – but your strength will be restored in time."

"It's too risky," Merlin whispered. "This isn't the time to experiment. Not when more than my life is at stake."

Arthur and Gaius ignored him. "Say there were several volunteers… How many people could you "borrow" life from?" Arthur wondered.

Gaius thought for a long moment. "Several, certainly. Though it would be complicated – like juggling tiny thimbles with thick gloves on. Not dozens of lives… Perhaps not even half a dozen."

Merlin chuckled darkly. "Good luck. You find someone other than Gaius who's willing risk their life for me and I'll muck out the stables with my bare hands."

Arthur stood and crossed his arms against his chest. He did a lap around the room alternating between staring at the floor and the ceiling. "Gaius," he finally said, "please go inform Agravaine of the situation. Tell him to have all of the knights assembled in the throne room in fifteen minutes."

"Yes, Sire." Gaius offered a rare deep bow to the king. "I hesitate to point this out, Arthur, but this would break your condition that no one else find out that we're using magic to cure Merlin."

"I know. I considered that." Arthur nodded. "Go."

Arthur turned back to his servant after Gaius left. Shallow tears hovered in Merlin's blue eyes. "Sit with me?" Eeriness crept up on Arthur's heart. Merlin sounded like he did the morning after the Dorocha attacked, when he begged Arthur to take him along to the Isle of the Blessed: desperate, weak and hoarse with slow, heavy, rasping breaths. Arthur sat beside him on the bench and, simultaneously, each reached for the other's hand and held on as if for dear life. "Arthur, you won't force anyone to take the risk."

"Of course not."

"If it doesn't work… don't let Gaius sacrifice himself. Please, old friend. Swear it."

"I swear."

"And don't sacrifice yourself, either."

Arthur stared at the floor. He said nothing.

Merlin tugged on his hand with what little strength he had. "Arthur, promise me. Promise me that right now or I won't even let Gaius try."

"All right," Arthur whispered.

"Arthur… Look at me." More blood. Arthur leaned over and wiped Merlin's nose with his shirtsleeve. When the distance closed enough, Merlin reached up and grabbed Arthur's shirt collar. " _Look at me_."

Arthur obeyed.

"Swear to me. On your honor." The six words took Merlin twenty seconds.

Doubt and determination duked it out in Arthur's eyes. His lips mouthed an inaudible, "I swear."

Suddenly Arthur rested his forehead on Merlin's chest, closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. Merlin caught three or four strands of his hair between his thumb and forefinger and rubbed them. Merlin's breaths behaved as if tied to anvils. His pulse was as slow as Arthur's was fast. Then, just as suddenly, without looking back, Arthur left for the throne room.

\----------

Seven men crowded into Merlin's bedroom. Another dozen knights waited in the adjoining chambers. So many volunteered to help Merlin that there literally wasn't enough room. Leon, Gwaine, Elyan and Percival lifted Merlin's bed (with him still in it) and moved it to the center of the room. Gaius stood in the corner reviewing his notes. Arthur took a seat at Merlin's side, fluffed his pillow and adjusted his blankets, wiped up not just the sweat threatening his eyes but every drop, and mopped the blood that not only leaked from Merlin's nostrils but from his mouth as well. His skin was so pale that Arthur traced the blue lines on his arm from his fingers, past his bare chest and up his neck. "Gaius," Arthur said when Merlin began to cough, "Gaius, are you ready?"

Gaius sat his book down and adjusted his robes. "Form a circle around him," he instructed the knights. Gaius filled the Cup of Life with water and stood at the head of the bed. He patted Merlin's shoulder affectionately. "Hold on, my boy," the physician whispered. "Just a few more moments."

Merlin smiled at each man in the room. "If this doesn't work, thank you. Thank you all." He turned to Arthur. "Thank you, my friend," he whispered.

Arthur's throat worked. "Thank  _you_ , brother." He briefly ran his fingers through an inch of Merlin's hair. The young servant sighed and shut his eyes.

Gaius raised the Cup and shouted the incantation. "Ic, séo héahsácerd, þe  _ácwele_   _strengþe_ ** _ealdanæwfæstnesse_**!"

A minute passed.

Arthur, Gwaine, Leon, Elyan and Percival glanced warily around the room. "I don't feel anything," Percival said. "I don't feel tired at all."

"Just wait," said Gaius. "Give the spell time to work."

Gwaine stared at his hands. They didn't tremble. Elyan's posture remained straight, Arthur's shoulders didn't slump. Leon's face lost no color.

Two minutes.

"Gaius…" Arthur began. Merlin suddenly rolled onto his side and vomited blood. His wide eyes rolled back into his skull and his body started to seize violently. "Dammit, it's not working!" Arthur shouted. He tried to pin Merlin down to keep him from hurting himself.

"Gaius, what do we do?" Elyan asked.

Gaius looked back and forth from the Cup to Merlin's dying body, and back again. Another minute. No magic sizzled in the air. Merlin went quiet, limp. Blood continued to leak. You could cook an egg on his forehead. You could water an entire garden with the perspiration flowing off his skin.

"Gaius!" Arthur gasped. They heard it, then. Every man there had heard the sound before. A death rattle. Merlin breathed a final hitching mouthful of air into his lungs and then exhaled it in brief, painful hitches. Arthur grabbed his wrist. "No pulse," he said. He pressed his fingers to Merlin's neck. "His heart stopped – Gaius, his heart stopped!  _Gaius_!"

Suddenly Gaius swung his arms over his head as if lifting a bale of hay. Arthur and the knights flew through Merlin's open door into an awkward dog pile in the adjoining chambers. They yelled the physician's name but he could no longer hear them because he shut the door. Even though it didn't lock, no matter how hard Arthur and the others pulled, it refused to open.

"What the hell is he doing?" Gwaine cried.

"Disobeying," said Arthur, both regret and resignation on his face and in his voice. "The spell didn't work. He couldn't borrow our lives so now he's sacrificing his." Percival rammed his shoulder against the door. "Don't bother," Arthur whispered. "He's using magic to block us. There's nothing we can—"

As suddenly as it closed, the door peeked open. Arthur led the way inside. He and Gwaine ran straight to Merlin. Leon knelt beside Gaius who lay spread-eagled on the floor with the empty Cup of Life still clenched in his hand. Merlin's lips were wet. In a single motion, Arthur grabbed his wrist, touched his neck and pressed his ear to his heart. " _Arthur_?" Gwaine started to sweat as much as Merlin. "Arthur!"

"He's alive," Arthur said, and repeated himself because he spoke so quietly the first time. "His heartbeat it twice as strong." Arthur sighed with relief and then turned to Leon.

Leon confirmed what Arthur already knew. "He's dead."

\----------

Arthur was still awake when the warning bell sounded. He'd spent most of the night preparing his speech for Gaius' funeral in the morning. Nothing he wrote sounded right. Twice he visited Merlin, but he was deep in his own thoughts and didn't want to talk. He spent his night alone in his room, curled up in bed, alternating between restlessly dozing and staring at the wall.

Arthur's instincts led him to the dungeons when the bell went off. Leon met him at the foot of the stairs. "He escaped, Arthur. The assassin. Albert. I sent the knights to search every corner of the castle and block the –"

"Get two men and meet me in Gaius' chambers," Arthur ordered. "He's after Merlin." Leon sprinted off in one direction and Arthur in the other. The king heard the struggle a corridor away. He doubled his speed and went in swinging. The floor was a minefield of shattered glass vials and puddles of potions. Two shelves had been overturned and a table flattened. Albert tackled Merlin onto that table and the servant barely held back the dagger reaching for his throat.

"Merlin!" Arthur dropped his sword and rammed his shoulder into Albert so hard that the dagger slid out the door. The two men rolled across the stone floor. Albert cursed. He dug his elbow into Arthur's stomach to separate himself. Eyes on the door, he almost escaped until Merlin popped up and punched him in the jaw. Albert landed on his rear end, and froze. The tip of Arthur's sword hovered in front of his heart. Merlin held it.

"You son of a…" Merlin's face was wet from the eyelids down. "It's your fault that Gaius is dead…"

Arthur stood as still as Albert. "Merlin."

"Gaius was the best and wisest physician in Camelot, responsible for hundreds of lives. How many would be dead without his help? How many might die now… because of  _you_!" The sword tip ripped a hole in Albert's shirt. Every inch of Merlin, aside from the fingers holding the weapon, trembled with feral rage and grief.

Arthur tiptoed closer and placed his hand so softly on Merlin's shoulder that it might have been a sparrow landing. "Merlin, lower the sword."

Merlin ignored Arthur, ignored the snot on his face and the sudden appearance of Leon and the others. "Because of you I lost my closest friend!" Merlin sobbed. "He was my mentor – a father! I should kill you –  _I should kill you_!"

His grip on the sword tightened, but so did Arthur's on his shoulder. "Look at yourself!" Arthur hissed so that only Merlin could hear. "Is this what Gaius would want? Is this the man Gaius would want you to be?"

"I should kill him," Merlin whispered to Arthur. "He – he killed G-Gaius, Arthur.  _Gaius_."

"He will be punished. I swear," said Arthur. "And if he dies it will be because of justice, not revenge. You're ten times the man he is, Merlin. Don't sink to his level by becoming a murderer, too." Slowly, cautiously, trying not to spook anybody, Arthur uncurled Merlin's fingers from the hilt. "Like Gaius, Merlin, you're meant to heal, not hurt." Merlin trembled, but didn't resist. Arthur sheathed the sword. Merlin lowered his arm. Without taking his eyes off Merlin's face, Arthur ordered, "Leon, put him back in the cells. Guard him personally."

Leon nodded. He hauled the pale Albert to his feet and the knights left with him. The second the door shut, Merlin collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his hands. Arthur folded down with him. Both arms wrapped around Merlin as secure as a banister. His chin rested on black hair and added enough pressure for Merlin to collapse against him without sliding to the floor. Arthur waited patiently while his thoughts found the right thing to say. "If magic could bring him back," he whispered, "I'd use it. Morgana will pay for this. As soon as the funeral's over I'll go after her myself."

Merlin gripped his upper arm. "I can't lose you, too," he croaked, a repeat of Arthur's earlier words.

"You won't."

"I mean it," Merlin whispered. "I'm not just saying that I don't  _want_  to lose you, I'm saying I  _can't_. Gaius, Will, Gwen, Lancelot, Freya, m-my father… I can't, Arthur. I'm not exaggerating. I  _can't_."

Arthur's thoughts drifted to his father. "I know." He rubbed Merlin's back. "If it makes you feel better, at least you won't have to be a servant anymore."

Merlin sniffed and looked at Arthur for the first time. "I can't replace Gaius. I don't have his skills. Besides, I can't protect you if you go after Morgana and leave me here with the leeches."

Arthur suddenly unwound his arms and scooted away. "I know why Morgana targeted you, Merlin. I figured it out."

The color drained not only from Merlin's face but from the rest of his body. "You – you do? How… when did you find out?"

Arthur shrugged. "It all made sense when I really thought about it. Morgana and I grew up together. She knows me. Well. She wants Camelot but she'll have to get through me, and the way to me is through those closest to me. Family, friends, servants who also happen to be… a friend."

The color returned to Merlin's cheeks. He sighed out of relief. His secret remained safe.

"The best way to protect those I care about is to get them as far away from me as possible." Arthur stared at the floor. "I don't want you hurt again. That's why you should stay here with the leeches."

Merlin would argue about that soon, but later. He left Arthur's words in the air between them.

"Gaius should've been a knight," Arthur said when a minute passed. "What he did for you… that took true courage. And, what you did for me…" Arthur coughed and cleared his throat. "Eating that food when you thought it was poisoned—"

"Like what you did for me? You and Leon, Elyan, Percival and Gwaine? You were willing to be guinea pigs for an experimental spell to save my life…" Merlin's thoughts shifted in a darker direction. "Courage will be the death of us all."

"I hope so." Arthur smiled and helped Merlin to his feet. "I hope I'll die like Gaius."

Merlin nodded. "Say that, Arthur. At the funeral." A last rogue tear joined its brothers. "Say that."

**The End**

 


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